Move over, Hummel
by superninjagurl
Summary: There was a slight pause, a moment with no reply, in which Kurt pondered over rolling over and pushing the jock out of bed, but before he got to that point, Puck answered him.   "Dude, I've got a boner." / unfinished, but shut down.
1. Move over, Hummel

At first, Kurt did not think much of it. Silence had finally fallen within the white walls of his basement, Mercedes' loud laughter and Finn's blabbering replaced by light snoring, heavy breathing and the rustling of sleeping-bags. The floor was crowded, since ten Glee members struggled to fit upon the confined space. Artie slept on the couch, since it was easier for him to get into his wheelchair from there. Kurt was very comfortable in his own bed. Sure, he felt his teammates' pain, but had no desire to wake up with a puffy face and dark bags beneath his eyes. In other words; he valued his beauty sleep more than their comfort for one night. Anyway, there was no way that they all would be able to share his bed, so this really was the fairest arrangement. It was _his _bed, after all.

"Move over, Hummel."

Kurt was so far gone by then that he did not even bother to register who that low, rumbling voice belonged too. Being an impeccable host was tiring, even amongst his friends. With a low groan, he rolled over on his side to let whoever join him in between the sheets. The mattress complained slightly due to the added weight. Warmth soon spread to Kurt's body and he relished in the new comfort, happily floating away upon a soft cloud of starlit dreams… only to be rudely awakened again.

"Hummel… are you up?"

Slowly, very slowly, he let his heavy eyelids open.

"Now I am, genius", he snapped quietly, not wanting to cause anyone else to wake up. That voice… That voice belonged to Puck. Dear God, there was so many things wrong with the fact that _Noah Puckerman _had crawled into his bed while Gay Kid himself resided there, Kurt did not even know where to start.

"Good", Puck replied in a whisper next to his ear. "I've got a problem."

_"I'm sleeping, Puck."_

"It's an emergency."

"Fine! What kind of problem?"

There was a slight pause, a moment with no reply, in which Kurt pondered over rolling over and pushing the jock out of bed, but before he got to that point, Puck answered him.

"Dude, I've got a boner."

Now, all Kurt did was _thinking of it_. Noah Puckerman was in his bed. The same Puck who had introduced him to dumpster dives and made lockers a health hazard. Suddenly, Kurt felt _everything. _Puck's even breath caressed his neck, goose bumps decorating the skin where it had touched. He could sense his intent gaze burning holes through his head. His nipple ring was pressed against his back and if he tried really hard to _feel, _he could swear that he felt the jock's very defined, absolutely divine abs. Kurt's trail of thought went south. Down, down, down… My God. He could not breathe. Seriously! He knew so very well what that firmness grounded into the back of his thigh was. So… large and warm, practically pulsating with need, if he could only…

"Hummel? You're deaf or something? _I said…!"_

_"I know very well what you said", _Kurt hissed, just a hint of panic embedded in his snarling tone.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Kurt snapped out of his slightly turned on, slightly horny state when his inner diva bitch called for a chance in the spotlight. This whole scenario was just so ridiculous, but what did it for him was the way Puck spoke to him – as if _he _was the daft one.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, it's clearly your fault."

"W-what? Excuse me, but how can this be _my _fault? What are you even doing in my bed?"

The boy behind him sighed and Kurt was pretty sure that he rolled his eyes too. How did he become the retarded one in this scene? Was it something he did not get, which apparently was so obvious to a certain Mr Puckerman here?

"Finn snored like some fucking elephant straight into my ear, Santana wouldn't stop kicking me and I thought you had plenty of room to share… but obviously not, since you wouldn't stop wiggling your ass against Puckzilla down there."

If it was physically possible for a pair of eyes to pop out of their sockets without help from some sharp, pointy object, Kurt's eyes would have shot straight out with enough force to do some severe damage.

"I wasn't wiggling anything against your… Puckzilla" he objected fiercely, equal parts disgusted and turned on by the idea, but mostly grossed out by the naming of Puck's… manhood. Though, the jock next to him was not known for making the wisest of choices. Exhibit A: his despicable hairdo. Mohawk? Bitch, _please_. Exhibit B: impregnating the head of the Celibacy Club. Exhibit C… oh well, it could go on forever and Kurt did not have forever, because this jock was pushing his rock hard member against his leg and he needed to do something about this situation… now.

"You're not gay."

"Duh."

Seriously, Puck's attitude was downright insulting.

"Then why did you… react?"

"Just because I'm not gay doesn't mean I'm dead. Really, Hummel, aren't you supposed to be smart? Now, are you going to help me out or what?"

A few times in life, you will be put in front of some serious choices. Tremendously huge, life changing choices. At those times you need to be realistic, keep your head clear and use your brain. No matter what Puck implied, Kurt was not dumb. Actually, he was quite clever. He knew that the chances of finding a boyfriend in Lima, Ohio were… Well, let us just say that the odds were against him, no matter how many times he and Mercedes spied for eyecandy down at the mall. Now, the chances of getting some action from a male being seemed to have increased by several numbers within the latest half an hour. But really, was he that desperate? This was _Puck. _Puck!

"What do you want me to do?"

It somehow felt as if he had made a deal with the devil. A noise left Puck's lips, a "huff", which almost sounded like a chuckle – dark and amused. It went straight to Kurt's groin.

The mattress groaned beneath them when the jock adjusted his position, the sheets shifted and wrinkled when he moved. Kurt held his breath, waiting, waiting… His entire body flinched when a large hand formed around his hip, pulling him to him, his back to his beautifully shaped chest. Puck's erection was still terribly arous-… noticeable! The otherwise witty soprano laid very still, waiting for a reply from his long term tormenter. Without a word, without any explanation, Puck drew a deep breath, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin behind Kurt's ear. The gesture startled him with its gentleness, the clear affection displayed in the act. Wet lips parted next to his earlobe and finally, _finally, _he was given some direction, because in this moment, he was clueless.

"Just stay put, Hummel", he rumbled, sending a clear shiver down Kurt's spine. "And quiet. Wouldn't want to wake anyone up, would we?"

Another low chuckle, a small rustle of sheet as Puck's head joined his on the pillow. Kurt's panicked gaze darted across the dark room, across the sleeping faces of their teammates and he prayed to Gaga that he would survive this without an enormous amount of humiliation. If someone woke up, if… if _Finn _woke up, he would surely die, no question about it. Then Puck rolled his hips and every small thought of Finn completely vanished from his head.

They were both dressed, there was no immediate skin-on-skin contact, but he still felt his hardened c-… cock very clearly through his indigo blue silk pyjama bottoms and Puck's washed out and worn grey briefs. He managed to kill his moan before it erupted from his lips. Puck repeated the movement, less hesitant now, pushing his member as close as the fabric would let him, again and again. His breaths had turned heavy, almost forced, hitting the back of the slighter boy's neck. Kurt's fingers clung onto the sheets beneath him as he desperately tried to contain any form of verbal outburst, because hell, this was… this was _sexual congress. _He almost gasped at the realization, biting down on his pillow to prevent it. He… he was practically losing his virginity, in this moment, in his basement amongst his teammates, because _Noah Puckerman _of all people had climbed into his bed and started to dryhump his ass. And he had not even kissed a guy yet. _This was not the way it was supposed to go, _he thought as he pressed his palm to his groin, trying to suppress the want within his body. It was useless and those depressing thoughts just made it all far less enjoyable.

A low, almost inaudible groan left Puck's parted lips. Kurt tensed and this time he could not hold in his stunned gasp when Puck's fingers hardened their grip around his hip, digging into fabric, skin and bones. The firmer sensation shot through Kurt's body sharply, making him tremble visibly with anticipation. The jock's hips slammed into his, forceful and with determination. He could feel his forehead, his sweaty skin, against his neck, his hard wet breaths ghosting down his collar against his shoulders. Then it happened. It was just a whisper, small enough to go by unnoticed. It could have been a hallucination, if Puck's large, calloused hand had not interlaced with Kurt's fingers three seconds later, pressing against his erection.

"Kurt."

All of it was suddenly oddly alright. There was no insult, no Hummel, dude, man, gay kid, fag, no homo. There was only _Kurt, _a beautiful whisper and his name had never sounded so good. Of all the things which Puck could have chosen to whisper, he picked just the right name to call him this time. His tense muscles loosened in his arms, because he realized it now, he was actually being embraced. Their hands moved together lazily in the same pace as their hips; slow, deliberate movements against each other. Kurt allowed himself to close his eyes, to disperse in the soft pleasure which gradually overtook his body. One day, he would like to feel his skin against his, but this would do for now. They were both inexperienced in this area, but they effortlessly guided each other steadily to climax. Everything just… fit.

Puck came first. Kurt noticed it in the way his breathing turned irregular, almost hesitating and his motions jagged. It brought a small, delicate smile to his lips, when he heard the hoarse moan erupt from Puck's throat. Kurt did not dare to ask for help, but the other boy's hand soon clenched against his again, moving a bit faster, a bit firmer than before. The intensity was almost too much to bear. He was held tighter, closer and through his almost completely closed eyelids, he saw Puck's face next to his. Watching. He was watching him with dark eyes as he came closer and closer to the edge, and a part of him wondered why, why would he do such a thing, but then he shocked him with a firm twist and his head went blank. Kurt's body convulsed, back arching and if a breathless _Noah _escaped him, he did not stop it. Wave after wave, Puck guided him through his orgasm until he sagged down upon the mattress, completely limp.

Everything was still for a while, quiet, when it was over. Finn's snoring was the most prominent sound in his basement. Kurt did not dare to open his eyes, because if he did, Puck might have returned to his asshole self and he did not want that, not quite yet. The larger hand retracted itself from his, fingertips brushed against his arm and then stroked the brown bangs from his sweaty forehead. A thumb traced the lines of his plump lips, gently. The wet heat came as a surprise, the chaste kiss planted on him, lingering until he answered with a careful motion. Noah bumped their noses together affectionately before he laid his head to rest upon Kurt's shoulder.

**Author's note: So, this is my first time writing Puck. I had tremendous fun writing him and I hope you found this enjoyable. Reviews are love 3**


	2. Bruises

**Author's note: Thanks to all of your wonderful reviews and reques****ts for a continuation or a sequel of **_**Move over, Hummel **_**I felt obliged to comply with your wishes. I had a severe case of performance anxiety while writing this, since I was not sure of if I could write such a piece again. So, please be nice to me. I did my best.**

It is a strange feeling – waking up and knowing that something, _someone _is missing. The sheets are warm underneath your palm, resting upon the pillow next to you, but you know that it is not from your own body. Your body, which feels tired and strained from what you did last night, with that missing someone. Your pale skin is decorated with small bruises along your hipbones, markings from where his fingers heatedly held you. That huge lump of tears, which you desperately try to swallow before anyone notices how your eyes are shimmering, has dug itself into your sore throat.

Kurt closed his eyes again. The morning sounds of newly awaken teenagers were all around him; Finn's yawn and stretching of stiff muscles, Tina's soft whispers to Artie, Mercedes' muttering about the location of her cell phone and Santana's…

"Where's Puck?"

Kurt bit down on his lower lip to prevent a heartbroken sob from escaping him. There was a moment of silence, in which everyone's gazes crossed the basement, as if expecting Puck to just pop up from behind the vanity or something. The confused mumbles of "I dunno" and "Has anyone seen him?" reached Kurt's ears, though he did his best to shut them out. Wrapping his comforter tighter around him, Kurt rolled over on his side, staring blankly into the clear white wall.

It is Puck that we are talking about, he reminded himself of. _Puck. _Of course he would not stick around for the fall out. He just took what he wanted and ran before anyone caught him red-handed. Kurt could not expect anything else. He needed to pull himself together now. Deep breaths.

"Puck left early."

His smile was not quite right, as he shot out of bed, but he doubted that anyone would notice. He met the curious and surprised eyes of his teammates, broadened his smile.

"He had somewhere to go. I would say that he's sorry for bailing, but Puck's never the one to say sorry, is he?"

The giggles and confirming laughter from the remaining ten Glee clubbers told him that he had them fooled. He could pull this off. After all, he was a better actor than Rachel. He adjusted his pyjama, feeling the dried stickiness between his thighs and tried not to grimace. He wanted, _needed _a shower. He _needed _to wash away any visible sign of Puck. "Breakfast will be served in the kitchen."

The other Glee kids had disappeared through the front door, in pairs and groups. Mercedes stuck around the longest, helping him to clean up, but she was soon gone too. Finn joined Kurt's father in the backyard, since it was a beautiful sunny day. Kurt supposed that they talked about football or something equally boyish and totally uninteresting. Everything had been… _better, _lately. He would not kid himself and say that he had forgotten about what Finn had said or that he had gotten over him, but he knew what was needed of him and he tried his very best. Those romantic feelings needed to be diminished and destroyed. Kurt knew that he was making progress, though he still found himself staring dreamily at him from time to time. He did not join them, not wanting to intrude and he had other matters to tend to. Like, cleaning himself up.

Kurt ended up staring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, after a thorough shower. He had thrown the pyjama in the basket of dirty laundry and stood naked before himself. He usually avoided these kinds of encounters, but now it had to be done. Any trace of Puck was going to be eliminated, washed away from him. He did not even _like _Puck. The self-absorbed jock was a jerk, an asshole who had enjoyed torturing him during his entire high school experience so far. So why did he stand there, unable to take his eyes off the bruises he had made upon his body? They were the only evidence of what had happened. If they had not been there, constantly reminding him, the entire experience might have been a sick and twisted, way too wonderful dream. A hallucination, a work of fiction. Kurt drew a shivering sigh, looking into his own eyes. No. This was not right. No one, _no one_ brought the Hummel's down. He was not going to cry over Noah Puckerman. He would rather die. Nope. He was going to walk into McKinley High on Monday, looking _incredible _and show Puck that Kurt was not the one missing out. Na-ha. He was not the one to be sorry.

Deep down, Kurt did not want the bruises to fade.

**Author's note:**** Sorry for the short chapter, guys. This was originally not meant to have more chapters and I know that there is a severe lack of Puck in this, but my loyalty stands to Kurt and if I am going to continue with this, I needed for him to tell us this before we get to the yummy part. I promise, next chapter will involve a whole lot of Puckosaurus. **

**I know many of you wanted to know the other's reactions of their sleeping arrangements, though letting Puck stay in that bed (all curled up next to Kurt) until morning did not seem right to his character. By showing his affection for Kurt, displaying **_**Noah **_**for him, he was vulnerable and exposed – something not many feel comfortable with being and especially not Puck. He just has not come far enough in his personal development to show confidence in that kind of situation.**

**Once again – reviews are love! They seriously make my day. You have no idea of how much they mean to me. **_**I am already writing chapter 3, so it is on its way!**_


	3. Uncertain Monday

Kurt had always been painfully aware of Puck's presence. It had been a case of self-preservation – he always kept an eye out for the jock, for his own health. He knew very well that he was a fair target, the prey, and Puck belonged to the predators. If he could, he avoided him. Glee Club was a safe haven, the choir room and the auditorium, but as soon as he walked out of those doors… New rules. It was a jungle. Kill or be killed and no matter how much he wanted to smudge those smirks of the Neanderthals' faces, Kurt just did not have the heart to sling his messenger bag at their thick heads. His messenger bag did not deserve such a horrendous fate. Instead, he put up with it. He brought two equally fabulous outfits to school if he was to be thrown into the dumpster. In a true Ms. Pillsbury spirit, he always kept a small spray can of cleanser and a package of tissues in his locker, for the times someone wrote insults on it. He adjusted, he managed, knowing that one day he would get out of that dead beat town and they would be stuck there forever. One day, he would show them. Though, that was not today. Today was Monday. An uncertain Monday. There was some new circumstances, new variables to be put into the equation.

He was nervous. There was no escaping it, the unpleasant tingle deep down in his belly. The Navigator's engine died on his command with one last "hum". Kurt raised his gaze to give himself a look-over in the rear-view mirror. He had no reason to be nervous. He looked absolutely gorgeous and he knew it, so why did his hands tremble slightly when he adjusted his coiffure? Puck was not allowed to do this to him. He was a Hummel. Hummels never back down and they never ever let some punk trample all over them. With a new determination in his eyes, he grabbed his messenger bag and gracefully slid out of his dear car. _Here we go, Kurt. You look fabulous. If Rachel can stay out of the dumpster with her despicable taste in clothes, so can you. You've got nothing to fear. _The door slammed shut, the car gave away a beeping noise when he locked it and put the key into his bag. _Straighten your posture, shoulders back, head held high. _The parking lot was swarming with students, hurrying into McKinley. A familiar crowd in red-and white letterman jackets was to be sighted next to the black dumpster. His eyes immediately searched for a Mohawk, but there was no one to be seen. Eyebrows creased in confusion, his steps slowed down. Puck had never stood him up on their morning dates before. A wall of broad chests formed before him. Karofsky and Azimio seemed to be the ones in charge, now when Puck had bailed for some reason. They looked like sharks, with their wide, menacing grins. Dumb sharks.

"Fine", Kurt hissed, putting down his bag and unzipping his wonderful coat. "But make it snappy, or I'll be late for class."

He was going to be late for class, he established after climbing out of the dumpster when the humiliating laughter had died away. He stumbled down on the asphalt, muttering about idiots and stains which would not go away as he picked up his things and set off to the nearest restroom. It was a well rehearsed act, a routine by now. Lock yourself up, get out of your clothes, put on your spare outfit, polish yourself up and dazzle everyone with your fabulousness. A sigh escaped him as he unlocked the cubicle he had changed in and pushed the door open, jostling with getting his neatly folded clothes into his bag. Someone cleared their throat. Kurt's heart made some sort of uncomfortable jolt and his breath hitched in the back of his throat. He spun around quickly, forgetting all about his plans of playing it cool. Puck stood leaning against wall, looking at him, but Kurt could not read his eyes. The jock made no attempt to say anything.

_Get moving, Kurt. Don't just stand there. You look silly. _His feet moved hesitantly, with caution as he stepped over to the sinks. He put his bag down, turned the knobs for the right temperature. He had gotten some sort of reddish sauce on his hands which he more than gladly washed away. He ignored how his hands shook because of the intense stare set upon him.

"I missed you at our early morning rendezvous today."

Kurt's voice was cold, colder than he thought he could manage, but then again – he was the queen of ice. Puck's reply came out hoarse and strained, as if he had not used his voice for a while.

"I don't know what that word means."

_Of course not. _Kurt lowered his gaze, a feeble smile twitching in the corners of his mouth. Feet moved across the floor, the low clap of soles against tile almost went by Kurt unregistered because of the loud pounding of his own heart.

"You weren't by the dumpsters today", he explained quietly, knowing that the mirror before him would reflect Puck right behind him. The other boy took his time to come up with a good enough answer.

"So what?"

"Karofsky, Azimio and another bunch of lowlives were."

"They threw you in?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't be missing Math right now."

Puck's hands were clenching and unclenching, he noticed it in the corner of his eye. Was he mad? He had no reason to. Kurt was the one who was supposed to be mad. He was supposed to yell at him, tell him to go shove it somewhere. He had an entire speech rehearsed, but it had escaped his mind efficiently when he needed it the most. The silence was choking him.

"So… If you excuse me, I'm going."

A pair of strong hands upon his hips stopped him from gathering his stuff in a hurry. He froze in his step. Noah's fingers found their place immediately. His breaths met the sensitive skin upon the back of his neck, just like the last time. Kurt did not dare to move, but Noah did. Two steps closer and their bodies were joined from heads to feet. The warmth was overwhelming. The rage, all the upset anger he had felt the past weekend was drained from his body and mind. Noah's nose buried itself in his hair, inhaled his scent. Goose bumps broke out all across his skin. His eyelids closed, eyebrows furrowed in pained confusion. It felt too good.

"… sorry…"

Nothing more than a weak mumble, but plenty enough for Kurt's knees to buckle. He grabbed a hold of the sink before him, desperate to keep himself on his feet. This was too much. He had come there today to show him. He had come to tell him to back off, because he did not need him. Everything had been a mistake. What he apologized for was unclear; for leaving, for returning, for messing with his head like this? Too much. Too much, too soon. Kurt scrambled for his messenger bag, tore himself from Noah's grip. He did not hold him tight enough to prevent him from fleeing. A part of him wanted him to, wanted him to cling onto him.

"I need to go."

One, two, three steps and he was out the door, running as fast as his legs could muster without giving in underneath him. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as he skidded round a corner and out into the humid air. The black Navigator soon left the parking lot of McKinley High.

* * *

**Author's note: My original plan was to let Kurt strut around McKinley, looking fabulous and show Puck what he is missing out on. As you might have noticed, my plan did not quite work out. ****If you wonder why I suddenly refer to Puck as "Noah", it is because I consider "Puck" and "Noah" to be completely different personality wise. Puck is the badass stud and bully, while Noah is the person who just wants to hold (and be held by) Kurt.**

**Thanks again for all of your wonderful reviews! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't keep going with this. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter and maybe what you would like to see in the next? **

**/Lots of hugs and love from Becka**


	4. A case of the gays

He had forgotten his jacket. It was soft in Noah's hands, white with black buttons. Kurt probably looked great in it. He would put it in his locker, so he would not lose it. It looked expensive. Noah could return it to him after school, because God knows where he had run off to now. He leaned against the sinks and hesitantly raised the jacket to his face. It smelled of him, sweet and pleasant and wonderful…

Okay, so he had gotten a serious case of the gays. It was not like he was a fag or anything, not like Queen Fruity he was crushing on, but he had come down with the queer. It was almost like the flu – though, instead of feeling like crap all the time, you just thought of dicks twenty-four seven. Or, pretty much the same dick. Kurt Hummel's. Other guys just grossed him out. Puck felt like rearranging someone's face, because this was seriously getting on his nerves. Stress relief, you know. Where was Jewfro when you needed him? That trashcan he had thrown across the boys' restroom just did not put up with much of a fight.

He had been infected during Friday night, at the Hummel-Hudson house. Hummel had announced it two weeks in advance – he was going to have a little soy, sarong, soirée or whatever homo word he used. Finn translated (Hummel had taught him the word the hour before). It was a party. With a sleepover. Back then, Puck had been completely straight and healthy. The word sleepover had made him think of cheerios with big boobs, dressed only in their underwear, having a pillow fight. The one who lost had to strip and make out with the other one. Still caught in his completely normal and heterosexual fantasy, Puck had accepted the invitation. About an hour later, he realized just what he had gotten himself into: Glee losers only, no booze and definitely no pillow fights with half naked cheerios. Hooray. He could have bailed, but Rachel would like, cut his head off or something and he did not feel like being headless.

It had been surprisingly nice. They had talked and sung and played games. Hummel had run around the place, refilling drinks and bowls of junk food, until Aretha pulled him into a bone crushing hug and forced him into sitting on the couch, squeezed in between Finn and Rachel so they would not throw themselves at each other. No one, _no one _wanted to see that. They had all turned in around two in the morning. Sure, Hummel's basement looked huge and all, but fitting ten people on the floor was not as easy as it looked. Finn could use surgery before someone went deaf by his snoring and Santana became some kind of kick boxer in her sleep. It was impossible to sleep in between them. Swearing, Puck had gotten up in search of somewhere else to crash. Wheels had gotten the couch and Hummel laid curled up like a ball in his huge bed. Beggars are no choosers, like his mother used to say. Ice Queen had turned over on his command and left some room for Puck. He had crawled into bed and that was when _it_ happened. Puck had gotten contaminated with the gays. True story. All of a sudden, Hummel just smelled _so _good. His body was warm and like, _sensual_. He made small sounds in his sleep, hummed contently when he moved. Before Puck knew it, Captain Puckerman was saluting him, telling him he was ready to breach the frontier.

Then… one thing led to another. No one could resist him, not even Hummel. After all, he was a stud, even if he had gone temporarily gay. Their company had forced them to be quiet, but Hummel still made those small, sweet noises resembling the ones he had made in his sleep. It had been such a turn on. Puck had whispered his name, you know, just to try it and Hummel had gone all spaghetti in his arms and it felt pretty awesome. Then, BANG! The most wicked and cruellest and greatest of all orgasms in the world just hit him with the force of a train going full speed ahead. He might have passed out for a second or two, his memory was a bit blurry. Hummel had still been hard underneath his hand and Puck might be an idiot, but he was not a complete jerk. He was pretty when he got off, eyes closed, lips parted, his entire body shivering. He had said his name too, just breathed it out easily and Puck figured that he kind of liked having him whispering his name. The kiss had made him dizzy.

Yep. Serious case of the gays.

**Author's note: A short chapter again, but I hope you forgive me.**** I figured there had been quite a lot of Kurt in the other chapters and you can never get enough of Kurt, but Puck wanted a chance to shine too. I wrote this in the middle of the night and I sincerely hope that I got his voice right. He sort of comes off like an asshole, which he is, but there is a sweetness and kindness behind his badboy attitude. I am not sure of if I will write from his point of view again, it was quite exhausting and as I have said before – my loyalty stands to Kurt. **

**Next chapter will involve lip-on-lip contact! Can I get a WHOOP WHOOP? **

**Reviews are love, sweethearts.**

**/Becka**


	5. Coveralls and Camaros

**Author's note: I'm not pleased with this chapter.**** Though, it's quite long, to make up for all the short ones.**

Calories. He needed calories – now! His dad would freak if he saw just how he had parked his car in the driveway, he had raised his boy better than that, but Kurt just did not care at the moment. Nobody was home and he needed something to calm his nerves with before he collapsed. It was a miracle that he managed to get home in one piece; the car had swayed dangerously along the ditches on the way home. His hands trembled when he fumbled with the keys to the front door and once inside, he did not even bother with taking of his shoes. His eyes were set upon the fridge. He pushed away those low-fat, low-calories excuses for ice-cream without hesitation and pulled out a container marked "Finn". Sorry, Brother. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. Kurt yanked open a drawer to fetch a spoon, ripped the lid off and buried his spoon in _Ben & Jerry's_ deliciousness. Chocolate Fudge Brownie. Dear Gaga, he had not tasted this in… He actually could not remember the last time. The icy treat filled his mouth and relief washed over his body. With every spoonful melting upon his tongue, his hands shook less and his heartbeat steadily returned to its original pace. He was finally able to take a few steps and sink down upon a chair. His legs almost gave in with some sort of odd exhaustion.

_Calm down, Kurt, you need to get this straight. Hah. "Straight". Funny. _Okay, so Puck was acting terribly out of character. Not only did he seem to have gone homosexual all of a sudden, but he also was so… tremendously gentle. That was the terrifying part about it. Kurt had thought that he understood it all during that Friday night. Puck had an obvious problem and needed someone to see to it. Kurt just happened to be there. Right. That was how it had gone down, but it did not explain the strange encounter in the restroom. He had _felt _and he had not felt nor seen any sort of… standing ovation. Kurt was unable to feel any sort of anger, just a great deal of confusion. He was a smart kid, but he just did not get it. What was going on?

And why, in the name of beautiful designer boots, did he run out of there like his pants was on fire? He did not _like _Puck, he did not want to _be with _Puck and he did not have such feelings for _Puck. _Then why did he make him so weak? Everything had been so intense in there, so overwhelming. There had been no air and only the sound of his own heartbeat had been audible. Puck was not supposed to make him react in that way. He was not… not Finn. Kurt stared down into the empty container, which had been filled with ice-cream for what felt like a few minutes ago. His stomach churned unpleasantly. He felt ill, but did not know if it was because of his sudden change of diet or the realization that he actually did sort of not distaste Noah Puckerman. It physically hurt him to think about it. A groan and a grimace, his forehead sunk helplessly down upon the cool surface of their kitchen table.

There was something buzzing and vibrating inside of his bag. His fingers searched blindly for it upon the floor before his mind and eyes caught up with him. The display screen of his cell blinked furiously and he pressed the right button before bringing it to his ear. He did not even have time to greet whoever was on the phone before a worried voice reached him.

_"Kurt? Kurt, are you there?"_

"… Dad?"

Kurt sat up straight in his seat, scrunching up his face as he looked around. The clock upon the wall told him that he had been sitting there for the last three hours. Oh. He might have fallen asleep.

_"You okay, kiddo? They called from school and told me you weren't there today."_

Kurt cleared his throat, absentmindedly rubbing his eyes with his free hand in hopes of getting a somewhat clear vision.

"I'm fine, Dad."

_"Kurt… We talked about this, didn't we? You're not supposed to say you're fine when you're not."_

He had to smile. He just had to.

"Really, I'm fine."

_"Then why didn't you show up for school?"_

He had gone to school. He had gone to school, gotten thrown into a dumpster and then had this really awkward and amazing moment with the school's infamous, self-proclaimed stud who had done some truly horrible stuff to him. No, this was not the conversation for his Dad. Burt Hummel did not want to hear this.

"I… I went, but…" _Lie, Kurt. Lie. _"… got ill. M-my stomach hurt. I drove home again, but didn't want to bother you. I'm sorry, I forgot about telling someone at school."

There was silence at first, a long quiet moment in which Kurt doubted that his lie was convincing enough.

_"Okay, son. Are you at home now?"_

"Yes. I fell asleep."

_"I'm at the shop, you mind coming over? If you're getting sick, I don't want you to be alone."_

Everything was alright now again, between father and son. Sure, there were times when he really just wanted to tell Finn to leave _his _dad alone. Just because he did not have one of his own, did not mean that he could go stealing someone else's. But then again, Carole had been there for him too. If Finn could share, so could Kurt. The black Navigator steered into the yard of _Hummel's Tires & Lube_ and he easily slid out of his car. He really did hate lying to his father, but sometimes he had no choice. There were conversations he was not ready for, things Kurt needed to protect him from. This was one of those things.

"Hi, Dad."

Burt Hummel looked up from his work, bending over the hood of an elderly Volvo, to welcome his son.

"Tummy feeling okay?" was the first thing he asked and Kurt only nodded in reply. If he noticed the solemn look upon Kurt's face, he did not comment it.

"There's an old Camaro -65 in the back which could use some patching up. Do you feel up for it?"

Kurt did not hesitate before nodding again. Keeping his hands and mind occupied was just the thing he needed now and a Camaro was always fun. If someone ever asked him, he would deny it blankly, but it was almost a relief to change out of his slim designer clothes and into the blue coveralls. If anyone could rock a coverall, it was Kurt Hummel. A vague smile fluttered across his lips as he watched the tiny embroidery saying "Kurt" upon the thick fabric. This was one of the very few things he had in common with his father – the ability to dissect a car engine in about five seconds. Sure, working on the Camaro would ruin his nails, but at least he would have something to do.

Behind the building where Burt Hummel kept his tools and had his cashier, was something resembling a scrapyard. There was where the Camaro stood, waiting patiently for a loving hand. Kurt pushed the baseball cap his dad had given him on top of his head. There was a slight reluctance in the act, though he figured that he was not going anywhere except home that day. He did not have to look impeccable. No one would come looking for him, he could you stay there for a couple of hours, getting his hands dirty and greasy with old oil and just…

"Kurt?"

He froze to the spot.

* * *

Holy shit. Sure, Puck could admit that he had checked Kurt out from time to time. He was practically a girl anyway, with that high-pitched voice and fashion sense and you know… being all lady-fabulous. And he did have a nice ass. Those tight pants he usually wore really did not leave much to the imagination. So he might have had a few indecent thoughts about Kurt Hummel, but nothing, _nothing _did even remotely resemble what stood before him.

Puck had paid the Hummel-Hudson house a visit after school, just to meet Mrs Hudson in the doorway and been told that Kurt was at the garage with his father. He had heard rumours about his dad being a mechanic, but the picture of the resident fag in a garage just… It did not make sense. He figured Hummel would just whine about getting dirt- and grease stains on his clothes. Mrs Hudson had kindly asked him if she could help him, and well, he _could _have given her his jacket, but… he did not want to. He wanted to give it to him himself, get the lost-and-found reward for returning it. The thought had made him chuckle mischievously to himself after gotten the directions to _Hummel's Tires & Lube. _

He had only taken two steps into the garage before a mountainlike man stepped in his way and rumbled in a voice which was supposed to be service-minded, but just sounded downright scary. His name tag said "Burt". Hell, that could _not _be a coincidence.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Kurt's dad?" Puck asked softly.

He was never good with the dads. The moms loved him, but the dads…

"Kurt forgot his jacket in school, I thought I'd bring it over."

"And you are?"

"Noah Puckerman, sir. We're in Glee together and in football before he quit."

There was a moment of silence, in which Mr Hummel before him seemed to assess him – figure out if he was allowed anywhere near his son or not. He passed the first test.

"He's in the back."

And yeah, that was how he ended up staring at Hummel's ass, because the kid was bending over the hood of a classic car dressed in a blue coverall, the top buttons unbuttoned to show off a white tank top underneath, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and… you did not come closer to a real life porno than this.

"Kurt?"

* * *

Holy Versace. He knew who stood behind him even before he turned around to see his face. That voice belonged to Noah Puckerman, no doubt about it. Kurt slowly stretched his back, absentmindedly drying his fingers on the towel hanging from the pocket near his hip. Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face him. The second their eyes met, Kurt was unable to move beneath his intent stare. Puck watched him the same way he watched a sandwich after football practice. It sent a pleasurable thrill throughout his body.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Puck took a small, hesitant step towards him and Kurt realized now what it was which he gently grasped in his hands. His _Alexander McQueen_ coat.

"You forgot your jacket", he replied. "And I know how much you care about your clothes and stuff, so I… uhm, yeah, brought it here."

Oh. Kurt could only blink in surprise. That was actually kind of… nice of him.

"You could've just given it to Finn." _Or left it, _but he did not say that.

Puck raised an eyebrow in that ridiculously cocky and slightly hot way, lips pursed together in a somewhat amused expression.

"You really think it would come home in one piece if _Finn_ was responsible for it?"

As much as Kurt hated to admit it, Puck was absolutely right. Finn was not to be trusted with his most fabulous coat. It looked completely unharmed in the jock's hands. It somehow eased the furious fluttering within his body, which was replaced by a nervous tingle. It resembled what he had used to feel while looking at Finn. _Damn it. _He shook his head in reply.

"My hands are a bit dirty… could you put it in the backseat?"

"Sure…"

Kurt hurried around the car to open the door. The inside was relatively clean and almost acceptable for his coat. It would have to do. He turned around just in time to end up face to face with Mr Hot Jock who sort of took his virginity. _Great. _Blood rushed towards his cheeks. Puck leaned pass him to put the coat on the leather seat. Kurt could practically feel the heat radiate from his godsend body and… Puck was unnecessary close. He held his breath, bright eyes set upon him as his back hit the car. Then… his eyebrows creased in confusion as he noticed the slightly swollen area around the jock's right eye. He did not manage to suppress the worry within his chest and before he knew it, his fingers quietly caressed the sensitive skin. It would turn blue, green and purple eventually.

"What happened to your eye?"

"I… I had a disagreement with Karofsky and Azimio."

"You're sugar-coating it."

"Fine", that smirk again and Kurt did _not _feel his knees give in. "… I beat the crap out of them."

"Why?"

The look he then received reminded him so much of Friday night that he could do nothing but blush deeply. Once again – how did he become the dumb one?

"They threw you in the dumpster", Noah finally replied in a simple tone, almost monotone. As if it was that easy, but if Kurt knew anything, it was that nothing was easy. On the contrary, everything was _hard _when you stood backed up against a car with the hottest jock in school far into your personal space. Yes, pun intended.

"You shouldn't have…"

"I know."

Kurt slowly lowered his hand, realizing that he still cupped his cheek gently. Grease stained his skin, a vague line underneath his eye, where his thumb had carefully touched him. He instantly reached for his towel.

"You've got a little something…"

"Leave it."

His voice was airy, almost inaudible but still firm – Kurt obeyed immediately and the towel was forgotten. Noah leaned in closer, his hand holding his weight against the car's roof right behind Kurt's shoulder. Closer, closer… He lost the ability to breathe about then, eyes fixed upon parted lips. Closer yet again and his heart was surely pounding its way out of his chest. Though, he just had to know…

"W-why?"

Noah paused, looking at him quietly for a few torturing seconds. The answer was as simple as the earlier one.

"Because I want to."

Lips crashed against lips, passionately locking together in fierce determination. At this point, Kurt's knees really did give in – he could not possibly deny it when he practically tumbled to the ground. If it was not for Noah's arm around his waist, he would have been sitting flat on his ass right now. Shaking arms snaked around the jock, hands gripping for everything, _anything_ he could cling onto. There was a lack of technique and finesse in the way he met his lips, but it did not seem to matter much to Noah. If anything, he gripped him more fervently, pressed their bodies oh so close. He could feel his erection against his hip. His hand forced the baseball cap to the ground, fingers burying themselves in chocolate brown hair and for once, Kurt did not care that his otherwise flawless coif was ruined. Tongues wrestled, saliva was swapped. It was all sloppy and desperate, on the verge of distasteful, but he had never felt more alive than in the moment Noah bit down on his lower lip. Forceful hands yanked his arms out of the sleeves of the coverall, reaching out for his pale skin, making marks with lips, teeth and tongue. A vague cry-out escaped him while kisses trailed down his neck. He wanted to be bruised, marked in any way possible, so he would never ever forget this and…

"Kurt? You out here?"

… it was over before it even had time to begin.

* * *

When Burt Hummel came around the corner, Noah Puckerman stood with his hands shoved down the pockets of his jeans with an appropriate distance in between himself and Burt's son. The butch mechanic, so different from his kid, came to an immediate halt and watched the two youngsters eerily. Something dark and terrifying filled his eyes at the sight of them. Kurt looked visibly flustered, his hair uncharacteristically unruly and swollen lips parting with every ragged breath. He seemed to hold onto the car door for dear life, as if he would collapse without its support. That punk, on the other hand, just seemed a bit out of breath and his eyes burned like a thousand suns when he looked at Kurt. Greasy fingerprints covered his shirt.

"Puckerman, was it?"

The kid nodded hastily.

"You know, Puckerman… I've got a shotgun in my office. If you lay a hand on my son…"

"Dad!"

"If you lay a hand on Kurt", Burt continued loudly, ignoring his son's widened and shocked eyes. "I'm not afraid to use it."

All colour drained from that thug's face. Something pleasant filled him at the realization – fear sure came in handy sometimes.

"No need, Mr Hummel. I was just leaving."

Oh yeah, run away now, kiddo. Hurry.

"Uhm, Kurt, I…"

"Too much talking and too little running, kid."

"Right, sir, I just… Kurt, front pocket!"

And the kid ran.

**Author's note: ****As said, I'm not pleased with this chapter. The first part is utter crap. The second part is… bearable, but just because they make out. Anyway, it was the best I could do at this moment. Don't hate me.**


	6. A small piece of paper

**Author's note: ****Thank you, guys, for telling me that the last chapter didn't suck. Even though I don't agree with you, it still makes me feel a bit better. Sorry for keeping you waiting, but (as you may have realized) I had a minor writing crisis and once I got out of it, I sustained a neck injury which made me slightly incapable of… well, functioning. But the show must go on, as I'm sure Rachel would've said, so I've tucked myself into bed with my laptop to please my fellow perverted slashgirls. This is for you, sweethearts.**

He tore his eyes away from Puck's quickly retreating back. Staring at his beautifully shaped behind would not help his case – the look Burt Hummel threw him told him just that. His hands trembled visibly as he forced his arms down the sleeves of the coverall, hurried on wobbly legs towards the hood to once again tend to the engine. Heavy footsteps approached him and he knew far too well what he had coming. Alright. Here it comes.

"So…"

He knew it.

"That boy."

"Puck."

"Yes… _"Puck"… _Is there something going on between you two which I should know about?"

Kurt nearly choked on his own tongue, furiously shaking his head. Burt offered him a helpful pat on the back.

"No! Don't be silly. There is definitely nothing going on between Puck and me. He's straighter than an arrow."

"You sure? I didn't like the way he looked at you."

Kurt spun around to face his father, temporarily forgetting about the nonchalant demeanour he had tried to pass off as genuine. Eyebrows raised in thrilled anticipation, lips slightly parted in a vague smile.

"He was looking at me? How was he…?"

… and then he caught himself. His face fell and he flipped himself around again to hide his heatedly burning cheeks from his father. Burt did not seem too impressed by his cover-up. His arms were crossed over his chest – never a good sign.

"Yeah, he was looking at you, alright. Like you were something to eat", his father informed him in a non-approving tone. "I don't know what's going on and I'm not sure I want to know either, but he just doesn't seem like…"

"Like what, Dad? Boyfriend material?"

"Like your type."

Kurt could have argued. He could have snapped, shouted at him and tell him that he did not know one thing about what his type was like. He could have said that he had no reason to interfere. Though, he kept his mouth shut, tending to the car engine in silence until his dad sighed and gave up. Why? Because he knew he was right.

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

Puck was not his "type". He was not even sure if he had one, but Puck did not fit into that category anyway. Sure, he could appreciate his absolutely divine body and mischievous eyes, but there was no escaping the fact that Puck could be a giant asshole. He had done everything possible to torture him from day one. What exactly had changed? The blissful state the jock had left him in faded away faster than he wanted it to and all he could feel was the hollow space within and the aching of his pulsating erection. _Damn you, Puck. _

Dinner was an awfully quiet and uncomfortable business. Carole and Finn exchanged curious glances, unable to figure out why father and son did not speak. Quite honestly, Kurt did not know either. Maybe it was pure stubbornness from both sides as they both tried to process what had happened back at the garage. Burt knew that this day would come, but it had crept upon him without a fair warning and if there was something he hated more than the Nazis, it was surprises. Especially the ones which involved his son, another boy and quite possibly the i-word (read: intercourse).

"He ain't pushing you, is he?"

The clattering of forks and knives came to an immediate halt. Even Finn, who usually was quite oblivious and clueless stopped shovelling mashed potatoes into his mouth. Kurt raised his gaze from his plate to stare at his father in complete horror.

"Dad, we're _not _having this conversation with Carole and Finn in our presence", he hissed, an angry blush blossoming across his otherwise pale skin.

* * *

Okay… something seriously weird was going on here. Finn knows that he is quite dense, several people have told him so, but he is not dumb. At least not a lot. So when Burt looks at Kurt and uses _that _tone, you know, like Horatio Caine (the orange dude) in _CSI: Miami _when he is questioning a criminal, Finn knows that there is something going on. Most likely, it is about a _boy. _Now, Finn is not sure if he really wants to hear this, because both Burt and Kurt can be pretty scary when they are in this mood and he does not want to get in their way. Still, he was glued to his chair because you just did not walk out on mashed potatoes which were this good. You just… did not do such a thing, no matter how tense your company was.

"Answer the question, Kurt", Burt said, though, his tone was soft. Nice cop.

"I've already told you, there's nothing going on", Kurt replied in a voice which was sharper than usual.

Finn's eyes darted between the two as if he was watching a game of tennis.

"Still haven't answered the question, son."

Mom shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him. Kurt's knife and fork clashed loudly with his plate. Now, his half-brother or whatever he was, was usually not the angry kind of guy, but he had acted weird like… all weekend. Finn was pretty sure that Kurt had eaten his ice-cream (and that was a crime in itself) and he _never _ate that kind of ice-cream. It was full with sugar and… stuff that makes you fat. Kurt used other words while explaining it, but Finn could not pronounce those words.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner, Carole, but I have simply lost my appetite."

He took his plate with him when he got up, dumped it in the sink and headed for the door opening.

"You're not walking away from this, Kurt."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not!"

The whole table shook when Burt rapidly got to his feet. If Finn did not know better, he could have sworn that it was an earthquake. Kurt had swirled around in the door opening, like a hurricane of designer clothes, fists balled up and eyes cold as ice. Yikes.

"For the last time, Dad, there is nothing going on between Puck and me, therefore there is no one pushing anyone and I am _still_ a goddamn virgin!"

Finn's eyes widened in shock, mouth hanging open. Puck? Seriously? Kurt strode away, like a really pissed of queen of ice who was ready to chop some heads off. Burt looked pale and Mom held his hand.

"Puck?"

Yeah. Something weird was definitely going on.

* * *

Kurt stomped down the stairs to his basement and if he resembled a child, well, he simply did not care. He was… _furious. _Not only did Dad have the guts to interfere with his almost non-existing love life, but he also had to bring it up in front of Finn and Carole. He realized far too late that he had actually spoken Puck's name in front of his step-brother. Oh well, he would never fit those pieces together. As far as Finn knew, Puck was as straight as they come. A resigned sigh left him as he sunk down upon his bed. He guessed that Dad could have a reason to worry, but… Contrary to what you might believe, Kurt was in fact a _boy. _Even though it might be hard to believe, he did have some sort of upper body strength and if he was forced into a situation which craved it, he could throw a wicked punch (no matter how much he despised physical exercise). And well, he could not get pregnant either. So there really was not much to worry about, except for STDs. Oh whatever, Puck and he had not gotten to the point where it could actually be contagious… right? Kurt shrugged his worries off of himself. Puck would have said something. A shy knock upon his door forced him out of his thoughts.

"Go away, Dad", he bellowed unhappily up the stairs.

"Kurt, it's me", the voice on the other side of the door hesitated before continuing: "Finn."

As if Kurt did not recognize his absolutely endearing voice. He snorted.

"What do you want?"

"I've got your coat… Burt told me you left it at the garage. Can I come in?"

Of course. _Good thinking, Dad, send the awkward, slightly homophobic teen to talk some sense into the gay one. _

"Sure", he replied sourly.

* * *

Finn pushed the door open, holding the coat carefully in his large hands. He knew Kurt really cared about his clothes, so he had done his very best not to ruin it. His head might be kind of slow, but he liked it quite a lot and wanted to keep it. Kurt came towards him, reaching out for the coat. Finn took the last steps and let him have it.

"Thank you, Finn", the countertenor said and sat down on his bed.

He just shrugged, because well, he had just carried it down the stairs after being bullied into the snake's pit by Burt who had looked kind of desperate. He had gotten very clear instructions: give him the jacket, try to be casual, ask about that Puck kid. He would get twenty bucks if he made it out of the basement alive.

"So, uhm… Puck, huh?"

Kurt's otherwise bright eyes turned for the darker. Touchy subject.

"Has Dad offered you money to do this?"

"N-no! No, of course not!"

"How much?"

"Twenty bucks."

Jeez, he was such a pushover. Finn made it over to the bed and awkwardly sat down next to him. Kurt just stared at the jacket, fingers softly caressing the fabric.

"You know he's straight, right?"

Kurt did not reply at first, which was really confusing, because he kind of looked like he was going to burst into laughter and cry at the same time.

"Yes, Finn, I know."

"But you like him?"

"That is really none of your business."

That meant "yes". No one could say that he had not learned anything from living with the Hummels! Understanding chicks (plus Kurt) was so much easier now, when he had started to learn how to decode their words.

"But he bullies you all the time."

"Thank you for your enlightening input, but I am aware of that."

Okay, so he understood him better, except for the times when he used those words he _knew _confused Finn. He did it on purpose, he was sure of it. Kurt dug through the pockets of his coat, as if searching for something, but Finn just barely noticed. He needed to get back on track and figure out what he had tried to say before his almost step-brother had dazzled him with too many difficult words.

"But…"

"Enough with the buts. I have nothing more to say. Please, leave me alone."

* * *

A piece of paper. Indigo. It seemed to be a piece ripped off from one of those information flyers from the Celibacy Club which had popped up around McKinley last week. Something about "fornication makes God cry". Kurt had not paid attention to them, but the little scrap tightly clutched in his hand screamed for him. He had temporarily forgotten about what Puck had called out after Dad threatened him with the shotgun. _Front pocket_. He had found the small paper in his front pocket. The mattress (and Kurt too) sighed in relief when Finn finally got to his feet and walked towards the stairs. Could he walk slower? Really, with such long legs, he should be able to get out of there faster than that.

"Hey, Kurt…"

Kurt looked up at him in clear impatience.

"Don't let him hurt you, okay?"

With those words, Finn walked up the stairs and closed the door carefully behind him. Kurt stared at the place where he had stood. It was at times like these he clearly understood why he had been head over heels for that uncoordinated, freakishly tall idiot. He was too cute for words to describe.

But still… Why did everyone worry about him getting hurt? It seemed as if they did not have any faith in his choices whatsoever. When had he ever given them any reason to doubt his decisions? If Kurt knew anything (except how to dress like a star ready for the red carpet), it was how to take care of himself. Puck might not be such a good idea, but he would manage. With a new determination in his eyes and actions, he unravelled the small piece of paper. A few words had been hastily scribbled down with a black marker.

"_I won't miss our rende-whatever-you-said tomorrow. Dumpsters, 8:45?"_

An absolutely ridiculous smile spread across Kurt's face. He had a date.

**Author's note: ****So, we got to see some from Finn's point of view too. He is not going to have a greater affect on this story (I think), he just serves as my slave when I need to take a break from Kurt's awesomeness.**

**Yeah, I know it did not happen much in this chapter, but it was needed for the story to continue. I want to jump from make-out session to make-out session too, but that would not make much of a story.**

**Do you know what I do when I have a writer's block? I put on my Glee playlist and read all of your wonderful reviews.**** So, if you want the chapters to keep coming, let the reviews keep coming! No, this is not blackmail *cough***


	7. Freaking adorable

**Author's note: I actually dreamt about Puck and Kurt tonight. ****It was so real, that I was convinced that I had seen some sort of spoiler for season 2. Then I dreamt of running laps in shorts and I had forgotten to shave my legs so I looked like some kind of woodland creature in clothing… Does anyone know how to interpret dreams?**

This gay flu he had been cursed with seemed to be more persistent than he first had thought. It might actually be life threatening. Not only did he think that Queen Fairy was hot, he was _cute _too. Puck could honestly not remember the last time he had thought of someone as _cute. _That word just did not fit into his vocabulary. The worst part was that he started to notice things. Small, insignificant things that did not mean shit, but he still thought about them all the time, you know? Like how bright his eyes were or how pretty he was after Puck had gotten him all fired up and dishevelled, his otherwise icy demeanour shattered. He leaned forwards towards his bathroom mirror to examine the damage around his eye. It had been one wicked fight and he would look really badass tomorrow. It had been worth it, though, for Kurt's sake.

Fuck. He must be gay.

Karofsky stood by the dumpster the following morning, accompanied by several from his lame ass hockey team. Puck sneered when he realized that Dave looked crappier than him. He had gotten some real good punches yesterday.

"Looking good, Karofsky", he called out as a greeting, just barely suppressing his laughter when Dave threw himself forward, towards him, only to be yanked back by his comrades. Starting the day off with yet another fight was never a good idea. Puck shoved his hands down the pockets of his jeans, ignoring them as they kept bickering like a bunch of old married hags. He had a date. A not so discreet smile crept up on him when a familiar SUV turned into the parking lot. The door flung open and Kurt slid out gracefully (my my, that ass looked _fine _today), throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder and shut the door. The idiots pushed each other around, throwing meaning glances towards their favourite torture victim. The car made a beep, Kurt dropped the key into his bag and turned around… just to come to an immediate halt. Puck noticed how his eyes darted all across the scene, trying to evaluate if there was anyway around what he knew was coming. He had seen this before. A thousand times before and Kurt's actions were always the same. He would take a deep breath, pull his shoulders back and hold his head up high, looking like some princess or whatever when he stepped towards his fate. Though, the outcome would be different this time. One well-placed elbow in Karofsky's gut and he had them all double taking. It could easily have been an accident, but Puckzilla does not do accidents. He feigned an excuse and stepped to the side to meet up with Kurt. If Karofsky currently was fighting through a throng of meatheads just to get back at him, occasionally shouting "I'll kill ya!", well, Puck simply did not notice.

"Sup, Hummel?"

Kurt actually jumped at the sight of him, a becoming blush colouring his cheeks as he lit up like the fucking sun. Discreet, dude. In a smooth, well-rehearsed movement, he threw back his bangs, straightened his back and smiled softly.

"Good morning, Noah", he breathed gently and Puck could not possibly fight back his own smile, because that was the voice Kurt used to use whenever he spoke to Finn. Not that he had paid attention to him before or anything. That was the time when he was healthy and most definitely did not pay attention to Queen Hummel of Fairy Town. It was still pretty awesome to hear him use his first name, though.

"Won't you get painfully executed for talking to me?" Kurt wondered, eyebrows raised as he gazed over Puck's shoulder, where Karofsky still was struggling with his companions. It was pretty hilarious, but Kurt looked slightly worried.

"Nah", shrugged Puck and started walking, expecting the slighter boy to follow him. He did, glancing back to the dumpsters when a _Puck, get your prissy ass back here! _reached his ears. He hurriedly huddled closer to the jock beside him.

Kurt's hand swayed back and forth next to his side. Puck kind of glanced at it from times to times and he thought that Kurt might notice, but they did not mention it. What was it Brittany had said about his hands? Oh right, they were like baby hands. Now, Puck did not wander around and touched baby hands all the time, but he was pretty sure that it meant that they were like really, really, really soft. Puck had not felt Kurt's hand since that night, you know, when he got infected with the gays. He kind of wanted to feel it again, but holding hands with the resident fag was _not _badass. Maybe he could just, like… graze right pass it. No one would notice. Just one smooth, carefree motion. He discreetly stretched out his fingertips, reached out for that burning, pale skin… Puck nearly jumped out of his skin when the most erotic sound EVER came out of Kurt. It was sort of like a gasp, but with a slight hint of a moan or a sigh or whatever and it was _epic. _A sideway glance at him and he noticed how his entire spine had stiffened and his eyes were closed in one hesitant breath and he sort of looked like when he had been close to coming that night. _Fuck. _His pants were getting really fucking uncomfortable.

Slowly returning to reality, realizing just what had happened, Kurt opened his eyes. He looked at him for less than a second, cheeks in an impressive flaming red before snatching back his hand so it clung on tightly to his messenger bag. Puck just barely suppressed a chuckle. Kurt was not cute, no, he was freaking _adorable. _

"So…"

"Yes?"

It was weird, trying to make conversation with the gay kid. Puck was more of a physical being. Words really were not his thing, especially not when he was supposed to talk to Kurt. This gay thing was way trickier than girls.

"Do you want to, I dunno, hang out after school or something?"

"Yes."

There was not the slightest hesitation in his voice and his eyes kind of sparkled.

"Cool."

Kurt's face suddenly became sullen and something unpleasant churned within Puck.

"We can't be at my place. Dad got suspicious yesterday. He's left the shotgun in the hall, so he can eliminate any intruders before they reach the porch."

Yeah, that really was a good reason to be sullen. Puck had no wish to get his head blasted off by a shotgun and he was pretty sure that Burt Hummel would not spare him if he ever came around the Hummel residence again.

"Uhm, we can go to my place, I guess", he replied helpfully, trying hard not to show how much his father totally freaked him out. Though, everything about Hummel Senior escaped him when Kurt smiled again. _Freaking adorable._

"Great. I'll see you after school", Kurt cheerily chimed and his happy voice was like music. He strutted away towards Math class as if there were pink clouds beneath his feet and his hips swayed like Shakira and his ass looked really fucking unbelievably hot in those tight pants and wow. Just wow.

He was so deep into the fagshit now, he was not sure there was any going back.

**Author's note:**** That was the end of chapter 7 and I know it's short, but it's at least something. I'm considering wrapping this up soon and continue with something lighter and humorous, like my new story **_**"How to successfully melt an Ice Queen". **_**If you want something more angsty, check out my one-shot**_** "I give you fever, huh?". **_**It's more delicious Puckurt!**

**Now, don't you f****orget to review! Hugs and kisses to all of you sweethearts who make my day with your kind reviews.**

**/Becka**


	8. Complications

**Author's note: Sorry for the wait, my fellow Purt-shippers! My computer was viciously taken away from me, leaving me with no other choice than to write chapter 8 **_**by hand. **_**I finally got a cramp and had to wait until order had been restored – my beloved computer is back in loving and capable hands. I hope this chapter is worth the wait.**

* * *

"Yes."

It had slipped so easily from his lips, almost natural, like the smile which invaded his face seconds later. Kurt hoped dearly that Noah had not noticed the urgency which filled his body to the brim with furiously fluttering butterflies. Heated memories of their previous encounters had made it obviously hard to even _function _properly – his hands trembled when he clutched the messenger bag tight against his side. The soles of his gorgeous Jimmy Choo boots clicked loudly as they made contact with the linoleum floor beneath him. He was walking rapidly towards Science class with unfashionably flushed cheeks, both from exhilaration and physical strain. A problem had occurred, just as Kurt let that simple "yes" escape him: his father would _not _let him spend the evening with someone who may or may not have kissed him senseless up against an old Camaro (in which many children probably had been conceived). That was a big no-no. Therefore, he needed an alibi which his girl without doubt would give him. He slid with less grace than usual into the classroom, right before Mr Fuller managed to close the door. It owed him a menacing glare from his teacher, but he had other, more important matters on his mind.

* * *

She had waited and waited and waited and Mercedes Jones was not the girl who thought fondly of being stood up. It had been a standing agreement between her and white chocolate to meet up by her locker every morning before class – just to do a quick assessment of both of their fabulous outfits. Arms locked together, they would walk with heads held high and proudly flaunt their amazingness all over McKinley High until they reached their classroom. They were the next Lady Gaga and Beyoncé – unstoppable and fierce. This day had been different. Kurt had not showed up for their early morning meeting, leaving her walking alone through the hallways and that just was not the same. Not until she had situated herself at their usual spots in the Science classroom, worry washed over her. What if he had gotten thrown in the dumpster again? What if he could not get out? She knew that he had learned a special technique after much practice of climbing out of it, but it all depended on how much garbage there was. If it was not enough, he simply could not reach and would need a hand to get out. Already halfway out of her chair, she noticed a familiar shape in the corner of her eye. She was not sure of if she felt relief, disappointment or mere anger of being stood up. He was obviously fine – he even looked excited. Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms in front of her god given bosom and raised her eyebrows. By the distressed and apologetic smile he suddenly sported, she knew she had made an impact.

"Mercedes, I'm so sorry..." he hurriedly whispered, sinking down in the seat next to her.

"I called you like three times, didn't you get any of my messages?"

He shook his head rapidly and started fumbling with the straps of his messenger bag to get his cellphone out. The screen flashed in bright colours and judging by the way his eyes widened, the cellphone told him just what she had said.

"I'm _so sorry..." _he repeated with a bit more emphasis this time, pleading for her forgiveness. "I was... distracted."

That was when she noticed it. Something was off with him, weirdly out of place. He had actually _smiled _while saying "distracted", as if it had some underlying meaning Mercedes did not know. She was used to being in on his inside jokes. Hell, he did not even have any inside jokes until they became friends! This only added fuel to her disappointment.

"By what?"

"Ms Jones, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Mr Fuller's voice bellowed loudly.

Both friends looked up and Mercedes quickly shook her head, already reaching out for pen and paper to resume their conversation. She firmly pushed the paper towards Kurt, eyebrows raised expectantly. He seemed to hesitate at first, but knew that there was no shortcuts to getting on her good side again. The pen moved swiftly over the paper before he pushed it back on her side of the desk. The message was brief.

_"Puck."_

Eyes wide in surprise she eyed Kurt's blushing cheeks and the way his hand was placed over his still heavily heaving chest. He avoided her gaze, knowing that anger made her eyes flare by now.

_"omg, what did he do? should I beat him up? no one lays a hand on my boy unpunished! i'll shave is stupid mohawk again!"_

She relished in the fact that she, despite everything, made him smile – a small but genuine movement of his plump lips. He only shook his head, while grasping the pen once again and writing a small message in petite letters.

_"Could you do me a favor?"_

Mercedes replied with eager nodding, knowing that they both were shitty BFFs from time to time, but when they really needed it he was her Robin and she was his Batman. Yes, she just made a comic reference, but who does not enjoy men in tights? She sure knew that she did not and probably not Kurt either. The relieved smile he flashed her way was reward enough.

_"I have somewhere I need to be after school. Can I tell dad I'm going to your place?"_

He already knew what her next question was, even before she pushed the paper over their shared desk once again.

_"where are you going?"_

He had preferred not conveying that detail. This... relationship (if you could even call it that) which he had with Noah was something he wanted to keep for himself. At least for now, now when he did not even know what to call it. Surely, at some point he would like to walk hand in hand with Noah down the hallways of McKinley High, but this was not that point. He needed to figure things out first. His hand wavered over the paper and he adjusted the hold around the pencil with great care. Minutes might have passed, because suddenly Mercedes sighed deeply and yanked the pen out of his hand.

_"alright, white boy, but you've got some heavy explaining to do later!"_

Kurt squeezed her hand under the table.

* * *

Finn had this nagging feeling in his tummy. During the entire first period, he had pondered over if he was hungry or not, and it sort of felt like when he craved for a humongous grilled chicken or whatever, but there was still something else. He was not one hundred percent sure, but it might be _worry. _It had started last night and he knew for a fact that he had eaten a HUGE breakfast and that he really should not be hungry, so it probably was worry. Though, at the same time, he was a big boy and big boys needed their food... and milk, so their bones would get strong. _Wonder what's for lunch today... _Okay, it was worry. He realized that when he sighted Puck in the hallway after second period, sneaking a blue note into a locker. It looked a lot like the note Kurt had tried to hide in his hand yesterday. Now he knew it was worry. It only took him a few steps to reach him, because he was tall and had really long legs. He grabbed Puck by the arm, completely ignoring the shocked look he received from him.

"What the fuck, man?"

There was no real effort to drag him away from curious eyes. He quickly found an empty classroom which he pulled him into. Locking the door around them and finally spinning around, he was faced with Puck's furious features.

"What the hell are you doing?" Puck spat, dark eyes burning holes in Finn's head. Though, he would not falter.

"I should ask you the same thing", he blurted out.

"Did you hit your head or something? You're not making any sense, dude."

Now, Finn might be dumb, but he knew that Puck was acting dumb.

"Kurt", he simply said and just as he thought, it halted the angry words gushing out of his best friend since kindergarten. Puck licked his lips, arms crossed defensively across his chest. His nostrils flared and it would have looked funny if it was not for the cramped and forced situation he had put them in.

"What about that faggot?" Puck finally replied, though, his voice did not have that sharp edge which it used to have. Like he really did not mean what he said (insightful of Finn, isn't it?).

"What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing. Why the fuck do you care anyway?"

"Because he's my brother, that's why!"

Finn really had not meant to get angry with him, but there was something about his face which just made him so... annoyed. Puck looked at him, wide-eyed and surprised.

"And yesterday things got really really weird at dinner, because Burt started talking about you and Kurt got upset and started yelling about being a virgin!"

"What's your point?"

"My point is... he's my little brother and if you hurt him, I'll be right after Burt with his shotgun."

"Dude, he's like... three months older than you..."

"He is? But that's _not the point", _Finn interjected.

"... and I thought we were bros? Bros over hoes, remember?"

"Well, bros doesn't exactly sleep with each others' girlfriends or call their brothers _hoes, _do they?"

The silence was a sign of that Finn was right.

* * *

Mercedes had tried pumping him for information the entire day. It was infuriating and tiring, though, he could hardly blame her and her not so subtle attempts to make him spill his guts out.

"Mercedes, _please..."_ he said while unlocking his locker, rolling his eyes towards her. "Do I look like a drug dealer?"

She had tried every theory she possibly could come up with, including that he had been brainwashed by a sect and that he would have a top secret meeting with the CIA. The latest; meeting up with a Cuban drug cartel at the airport. She sighed and shook her head.

"I wish that you could just tell me... You know I'm good with secrets."

Kurt just nearly avoided reminding her about Baby Gate, advising himself that it was for his own health. The wrath of a hungry, black and proud woman was not one he wished to face.

"I'll tell you soon. Not today, but soon. I just have a few things which I need to figure out first."

He pulled the locker open and the fluttering of something blue diverted his attention from Mercedes' pleading eyes. A note, which flew straight down to the floor once the locker was opened. Kurt realized who the sender was immediately. It was the same kind of indigo as the piece of paper he had found in his pocket yesterday. The recognition and joy he felt must have somehow transcended to his face, because before he even had time to react, she had made a dive for it and clutched the note in her hands. Oh, holy Gaga. This was not going to end good. He pretended to look for another book as he heard her shocked gasp.

"Why do you have Puck's number in your locker?"

"What? He gave me his number?"

He snatched the note out of her hand. His heart rate had picked up and his hands almost shivered with anticipation when he read the message.

"_Call me when school's out."_

It was signed with _"Noah". _If it had not been for the next to mortified expression Mercedes currently sported, he would have smiled and acknowledged the thrilling joy within. A boy had given him his number. A boy who was not a relative, a science project partner or Artie. He felt a sudden need to leap, to giggle and skip through the hallways like a twelve year old cheerleader with ponytails. He could _so _pull off ponytails. He wanted to rejoice, while Mercedes looked like she went to his funeral.

"Kurt... what's going on?"

* * *

Finn was just a buttload of crap. What the fuck did he know, anyway? And when had he started caring about Kurt? He had always been whining about how creepy it was to share a bedroom with him and whatever. Puck had just barely listened. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles whitened. After his encounter with Finn, his feet had steered him back to his old, though loyal truck. Never once had she died on him and such kind of loyalty was deeply appreciated. Maybe Finn Fucking Hudson could learn something from her. He dashed his head against the wheel, the car horn gave away a wailing sound which scared the shit out of some freshmen. He would have laughed, but it somehow did not seem as funny as it was. His cellphone laid upon the passenger seat and he just waited. Waited for this shitty day to end. Waited for Kurt's phone call.

* * *

Kurt stomped out of McKinley, clutching his cellphone tight in his hand. He was _mad. _Last time he checked, they were supposed to be best friends and best friends were supposed to be supportive, right? Now, _"you're making a terrible mistake" _did not sound very supportive to him. Mercedes had brought up so much _garbage _and by the time he stormed off, her face had been as descriptive as an "I'm with idiot" t-shirt. Kurt Hummel was not an idiot. He had already thought of all those things she brought up; Puck was using him, this was some sort of cruel joke, a new kind of torture, a good laugh. She had first hand experience, from the brief time they had been dating. Well, Kurt knew for a fact that they had not even kissed and he and Noah had done _so much more. _She was just jealous because he had someone and she did not.

The first signal had barely gone through before he heard a raspy voice in the other end.

_"Puck."_

_"_Hello, Noah. It's Kurt. Where are you?"

* * *

**Author's note: So, many different points of views in this chapter. I **_**hated **_**writing Mercedes. I had so much trouble with finding my inner proud black diva. Did I get her voice right (read: acceptable)? Somehow, I can identify so much easier with awkward gay boys. Anyway, during my involuntary computer-free time, I did some thinking and realized that I needed to add some complications to the story. This will hopefully help me to figure this thing out. **

**Now, don't you forget to review! Yes, I'm talking to YOU! **

**/Becka**


	9. Icecream or monstrosity?

**Author's note: This chapter is FLUFF (with a hint of porn, but I know you like it)! :D I could not help myself.**

* * *

Noah did not raise his gaze from his hands, tightly gripping the steering wheel, when the door to the passenger seat flung open. A familiar scent, something sweet... like some kind of fruit or berries or whatever. Noah would not know, that was way too gay. Though, he kind of liked it. Kurt leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest and his messenger bag resting in his lap. The silence was far from uncomfortable, but there was still something disheartening in the air, something strained. He threw a glance his way. Kurt stared straight ahead. His blue greenish eyes glistened. Was he crying? His grip around the steering wheel eased visibly. His fingers were stiff and white, cracked when he bent them carefully. He had lost track of how long he had been waiting. It could have been hours or mere seconds. The breaking noise his left pinky made snapped Kurt out of his reverie. Blinking furiously, a futile attempt to get the sadness out of his eyes, he jerked his head in Noah's direction.

He could have asked him what was wrong. He could have hold his hand and listened to all he had to say, let him rest his head upon his shoulder and bawl his eyes out if he wanted to. Then, when Kurt asked him, he would say that no, of course he did not look like shit with his face all puffy and eyes red from crying so hard.

Though, he did not do those things. He was no good with words, remember? Instead, he simply leaned across the center console, hands reaching out to cup Kurt's porcelain pale cheeks. Confusion crossed his face and his lips were parted to say something, anything, but Noah silenced him with his own mouth. The scent, the fruity one (suitable enough), mixed with the warmth of his skin and the taste of his plump lips made him pull him to him. Fingers buried themselves in the back of his neck and hair. The other boy had stiffened at first, but soon relaxed into his touch. It was a series of slow, gentle kisses placed carefully upon him. Kurt's eyelids had fluttered close, just like Noah's. One thumb stroked the side of his neck lazily, haphazardly feeling his hurried heartbeat while his other hand locked in place around his slim waist. His lips moved playfully, but yet soft – a new kiss for every other passing second. He could feel a light hand forming around his t-shirt, squeezing the fabric in between trembling fingers. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. A small whimper of loss escaped his company when he stopped to nudge his nose affectionately with his own.

"You're getting better at this", he informed him kindly.

"P-practice makes perfect", Kurt replied, though the retort did not come as quick as it used to. He looked kind of dazed, actually, with his eyelids still half closed. Another blissful kiss left Kurt Hummel speechless.

"Let's get out of here", Noah suggested and turned the key in the ignition.

Kurt only managed to nod.

* * *

Kurt just stared at the atrocity Noah held out to him. The cone itself probably contained more calories than his usual intake per day – not to mention the three scoops of vanilla- and strawberry ice-cream which were completely drained in chocolate sauce and sprinkled with something colourful and artificial. Remembering the last time he had indulged himself in such awful amount of frozen sugar, he felt slightly nauseated.

"I am _not _eating that... _thing", _he informed him.

"Oh, come on... Stop being such a prissy and just eat it already!"

The ice-cream cone swayed dangerously in front of him and he leaned far away in his seat to avoid it. Noah's grin broadened. By not being able to speak properly after those mind blowing kisses earlier, Kurt had had no say whatsoever of where they were heading. That was how he ended up sitting next to the school's infamous bully in one of Lima's deserted parks. Noah had gotten the ice-creams from a café just half a block away. _Without _Kurt's consent.

"It's _melting, _Kurt."

"Do you know how many calories there is in this monstrosity?" he questioned, eyes narrowed into small slits.

"Yes."

"How many?"

"A lot", Noah mocked and only laughed when Kurt snorted in reply.

A part of him knew that the jock had chosen the park because of the obvious lack of visitors. Though, it suited him just fine. After Mercedes' reaction, he really did not feel like shouting whatever this was out to the world. The vanilla ice-cream had melted and trailed across Noah's sunkissed skin, white against soft brown. The once frozen delight pooled in between his long, calloused fingers... fingers which had been entangled with his during that Friday night.

"You know you want it", he whispered and dear god, yes, Kurt wanted it.

"I... I don't need more fat. I've already got hips like a pear."

This time, Noah was the one who snorted.

"Your hips are fine", he replied swiftly and without the slightest hesitation. "Now, eat."

Thereafter, the boy Kurt once or twice during the weekend had considered boyfriend material, simply shoved the ice-cream into his mouth. Not so shockingly, he practically choked on the cold mess invading him. Though, it did taste good... NO! With his two hands gripping Noah's arm, he managed to push him away. The cone slid from his grip and met the asphalt beneath them with a _flop. _White, pink and brown droplets slid from his cheeks and either dropped to the ground or ran down his exposed neck. He thanked Gaga that he did not wear one of his scarves this day. It would have been stained. The melodious sound of a hoarse laughter reached his ears and he snapped his head in his company's direction. He was practically bent over himself, helplessly gasping for air, joyful tears springing from his hazel eyes.

"You jerk", Kurt hissed menacingly and a slight part of him really meant it, while the other realized that it was probably the first time he had actually seen him laughing for real. He could not avert his gaze from his glimmering eyes and mesmerising smile.

"Oh jeez, you should have seen your face...! So fuck-!"

His words came to an abrupt halt when Kurt claimed his vengeance.

* * *

It felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull when he watched Kurt's face crack up in a roaring laughter. Slowly, his skin registered the cold liquid smeared across his cheek and his eyes noticed _his _ice-cream cone in Kurt's hand. His tongue darted out to taste what dripped down from his lips and chin. Strawberry. Well played, Hummel, well played.

"You really should not have done that...", he murmured threateningly, but all Kurt did was to laugh even harder, bright eyes shining with glee.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?"

A week ago, that sentence would never have dared to left Kurt's oh so inviting lips. A week ago, that would have earned him three dumpster dives a day. Though, this was not a week ago.

Noah was surprised to see how fast the diva could move in those too tight to be comfortable jeans. When he had reached out to give him his punishment, Kurt had simply sprung to his feet and made a run for it. Ice-cream still in hand.

"Hell no, Hummel!" he called out when he set after him – that giggling, fruity figure who playfully darted out of his way right about when he seemed to be able to reach him.

"You're a jock! Aren't you supposed to be fast or something?" Kurt teased when he once again dodged him, flashing a wide white smile and he looked so happy. Noah had never seen him like that before.

The thrill of the hunt made the adrenaline pump ferociously within his body. His heart had picked up speed too and his cheeks almost hurt with the grin he constantly was sporting. At times, he was so near he nearly grasped the hem of his shirt or his sleeve, but his fingers would always retract during the last second, fold themselves into his hand so Kurt effortlessly danced away out of reach once again. So the chase continued in another minute, so his eyes could rake over him and truly appreciate what he was seeing. Pear hips my ass. Those were some good looking hips. His feet slid upon the freshly cut grass, still wet and slippery from the rain which fell last night. At some points, Kurt seemed to lose his balance too, but always regained his composure and got out of the way before Noah got to him. Sweat prickled in the back of his neck and maybe Kurt noticed his heavy breathing, because he backed himself up against the trunk of a tree, holding out the generously melting ice-cream as a weapon.

"Don't come any closer! I've got an ice-cream and I'm not afraid to use it", he overly dramatically exclaimed, trying to be serious but his smile gave him away.

Noah completely disregarded his threats and closed in on him, eyes doing everything but devouring his flushed cheeks, glistening eyes and swollen lips. Kurt's chest heaved quickly and every breath was a flustered pant. There was something similar to anticipation in his soft features, as if he was impatiently waiting for whatever Noah wanted to do. He was so near now, he could feel his heat radiate from his body, his minty breath caress his cheek and then there was that fruity smell again. Enough to get you high and flying in no time.

His tongue met with the sticky skin upon Kurt's neck and he received a thrilled gasp in response. Gentle fingers gripped his shoulders frantically when the smaller boy tried to keep himself on his feet. His body was shivering against Noah's. The taste of vanilla, strawberry, chocolate and salty skin exploded upon his tongue and went straight to his groin which in turn was pressed into Kurt's hip. His hands had softly craned his neck to expose it easier to his greedy tongue. Kurt did not seem to mind. Instead, he moaned his appreciation and let out a breathy _more. _Noah was eager to comply.

A sharp signal broke the spell. Noah damned the vibrating cellphone in his pocket and the way his fingers trembled with longing when he reached for it. A surprisingly manly (and incredibly hot) groan left Kurt and he leaned back against the tree, obviously just as pissed off by whoever was calling as he was. The screen flashed with four letters and a goofy picture that big oaf had taken when he stole his phone once. Finn.

Fucking cockblocker.

* * *

**Author's note: A happier chapter than the others. I was feeling overly optimistic while writing this, which you might have noticed. I wonder what's going to happen with our boys now...?**

**I was worrying about Puck being out of character in this chapter, until I came to the realization that "Puck" did not exist in this part of the story. This was my version of Noah. I hope you like him.**

**I would like to thank **_**nonexistantpuppy **_**who gave me the most epic review ever. It gave me just enough spark to finish this chapter! THANK YOU!**

**Remember: I'm like Tinkerbell. I need reviews to live!**

**/Becka**


	10. Ruined boots

**Author's note: Sorry, but I need to get this out of me before I explode. To get inspiration for the latest chapters, I've been cruising YouTube for Glee's versions of **_**Bad Romance **_**(my ears starts bleeding if I listen to the original, but this version is FAB! And Chris' legs in that outfit... WOW.), **_**4 Minutes **_**and **_**Give Up The Funk **_**since they're not on Spotify which I usually use for getting my music. The great thing about Spotify is that **_**there is no comment box**_**. I am so fucking tired of those buttloads of ignorant shitheads who post comments like **"After seeing glee do a couple of really good songs, I think they're great differing from my original opinion of them being homosexual."** and **"so gay with the guys voice". **These are direct quotes. I am **_**this **_**close to going Sue Sylvester on their retarded asses and make them regret ever thinking the word homosexual in a negative context! Really – WHAT'S WRONG WITH PEOPLE? My frustration over their idiocy is giving me a severe headache.**

**Sorry you had to see that. Here's chapter 10.**

* * *

Kurt cared for Finn. He really did. They were, awkwardly enough, kind of brothers. Sure, during an embarrassingly long time span, he had been head over heels for him, though, at this point he had this indescribable urge to simply chop his head off. Could his timing be worse? Probably not. Noah pressed the phone to his ear and actually _snarled. _He seemed to be equally frustrated as Kurt over the unwelcome interruption.

"What the fuck do you want?"

He was surprised to hear the hostile greeting Finn received. Was Noah _that _horny? Oh... stupid question. He was _Puckzilla, _after all. Whatever Finn answered, it did nothing but add fuel to his friend's bad temper. His voice was harsh when he replied.

"So what?"

Standing very still in between the trunk of a large oak and the firm chest of the most attractive boy in school, Kurt started to feel slightly uncomfortable. His heart was not racing anymore, breathing was once again an easy task and perspiration was evidently not something he could recommend in such a tight fitting outfit. The thrill, the tingling anticipation had washed away with the intro of whatever vile and crude rock song which had been exclaimed by the device in Noah's hand. The ice-cream which had survived the longest, was now melting away upon the ground next to their feet. Noah's torn and worn out sneakers looked misplaced next to Kurt's fashionable boots. Something twinged within when he noticed the grass stains. They had been new, those boots. There was something dark smudged across his left knee, maybe he had fallen during the chase, he could not remember. All he knew right now was that his expensive Alexander McQueen shirt was pressed tightly against a _tree. _There would be stains, maybe even some torn fabric. Over all, he was... dirty. Mercedes' words echoed through his head. _You're making a mistake._

"Mind your own business. Got that, Hudson?"

Kurt's eyelids fluttered nervously when his attention turned back to Noah. He had shoved the cellphone down his pocket again and looked back with something annoyed shining through his hazel eyes. Kurt knew then that the moment was lost. The playfulness, the exhilarating passion and joy they both had felt just a minute ago had left and only the awkwardness remained. His fingers let go of his shoulders stiffly, a bit reluctant, still trying to hold on to what they had lost.

"We need to talk."

* * *

We need to talk. Of all the words in the world, Noah probably hated those four words the most. By themselves, they were often harmless, but together... His worst nightmare. It was how every tense conversation between Quinn and him had begun, the ones about Beth. It was how every emasculating rant with Santana started. It was the phrase his mother greeted him with whenever rumors of his sexual conquests or delinquent behavior reached her. And now Kurt said it too. Great. Awesome. He had slid pass him, stumbled over a rampant root and Noah had reached out his hand to help him gain his balance back, because hey, he could be a gentleman if he wanted to, but Kurt had only shook him off and said that he could manage. This could not be good.

The actual talk did not take place until thirty minutes had passed. Kurt had forced them both back to the café where he had bought the ice-creams earlier, just to clean themselves off. Noah had not thought that it was necessary, but Kurt only mumbled something about his boots and disappeared into the ladies' room for a good twenty minutes. Waiting was no fun, so he had washed his face ice-cream free while the other one made himself presentable again. When exiting the bathroom, Kurt looked far more put together and proper. Clean, except for a few unfortunate stains upon his clothes. He probably did not like that. Finally, they ended back up in his truck. Just sitting, like they had done before. This time, the silence _was_ uncomfortable. Kurt was watching his hands and Noah held onto the steering wheel once again.

"So..." he started, because they were supposed to talk, right?

"Mercedes disapproves."

His reply had come so quick that Noah barely registered what he said.

"Wait... what?"

"She saw the note you left in my locker and went ballistic. She said that I'm making a mistake. She said that you're using me."

The accusation actually hurt. He knew his track record might not be the prettiest one and sure, Aretha had all right to be doubting him after their so called relationship, but still. There is no merit in fucking the gay kid. There is just this electrifying, mind-blowing sexual compatibility and you do not walk out on that kind of thing. Kurt did not look at him, probably did not dare to and that is just crazy, after what they have been through during the last few days.

"Finn threw a fit earlier today."

That caught Kurt's attention. His eyes were wide when he stared at Noah.

"Finn?"

"Yeah", Noah replied and leaned back in his seat, running his hand through his mohawk. It was a reflex, a calming habit. "He started yelling about your dad asking about me and how you're his little brother..."

"Little brother? I'm three months older than him."

"I know, but he didn't and he said he would point your dad in my way if I messed you up."

Then there was the silence again, but it had eased slightly. Noah would admit that talking was not his thing, though, sometimes it could come in handy. To get things out in the open or whatever. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how Kurt adjusted his hair again. He wondered what he would say if he told him that he preferred his hair unruly. Kurt cleared his throat softly.

"You know when my birthday is?"

* * *

Kurt could barely remember the last time he had felt as satisfied as he did when he made Noah Puckerman blush for the first time. Probably never. The otherwise confident jock fidgeted in his seat, ran his long, gorgeous fingers through his small stripe of hair and coughed. Kurt merely suppressed the delighted giggle which bubbled up his throat.

"Well, uhm, yeah..." Noah mumbled, staring out the window and trying to sound nonchalant. "July 31st, right?"

"That's right", Kurt helpfully confirmed and his fingers itched to touch his furiously burning cheeks. "How do you know that?"

"Someone mentioned it, I guess..."

"And you remembered?"

Noah turned an even darker shade of rosy red. It was beautiful.

"I'm good with numbers."

Says the guy who skips Math class every week, but Kurt did not point that out.

"It's very sweet of you to remember it."

"Whatever. Finn said I better bring you home before your dad goes Hulk on the place."

Noah started the engine and turned out of the parking lot, looking so adorably awkward and embarrassed, that Kurt could do nothing but smile. Somehow, it did not matter that his boots were ruined any more.

* * *

**Author's note: Yes, you've got it right, Kurt's got the same birthday as Harry Potter, because only the awesomeness of J.K. Rowling can compare to him.**

**And I'm trying to make this hard for them, I really do, but I somehow always end up fixing the problems at the end of the chapter. I'm too much of a sucker for happy endings.**

**Does anyone have any ideas of what should happen to our boys now? I'm open for suggestions! **

**Don't forget to review!**

**Hugs and kisses**

**Becka**


	11. Is that poo?

**Author's note: I did not intend to keep you waiting, it just happened! I wrote a fluffpiece called **_**Landing at 10 pm **_**and another chapter for **_**How to successfully melt an Ice Queen, **_**both very purtilicious. Here's chapter 11! Jeez, I can't believe I've actually written eleven chapters... Though, this one is short.**

* * *

"Holy shit..."

Finn had made a point not to stare at Kurt, because, well... it might give him the wrong ideas, but when his sort of stepbrother stepped through the door, he could not help himself. Quite frankly, he looked like crap. He did not quite know how to identify the substance covering Kurt's clothes. Now, he was not sure, but... it might be poo.

"Is that poo?" he blurted out with wide eyes.

Kurt's eyebrows creased in momentary confusion, before he seemed to realize what the hell Finn was talking about.

"Don't be silly, Finn. It's ice-cream", he replied in a matter-of-factually manner while he undid his dirty boots. He made it make so much sense, that Finn almost dropped the subject, completely satisfied with his answer.

"Oh... Why do you have ice-cream on your clothes?"

"Well, I ate an ice-cream and I got some on my clothes."

Kurt walked past Finn with a polite smile and he seemed to hurry towards the safety of his basement. Worry and suspicion gnawed at Finn's inside, because something was not right. It did not make any sense.

"You don't eat ice-cream."

"Yes, I do. Everyone eats ice-cream, Finn."

"No, you say it makes you fat because it has a lot of bad stuff in it."

"Oh, but a small treat of frozen delight from time to time can't hurt", Kurt smiled sweetly, hands interlaced while he tilted his head to the side. Finn knew that look. He used that one whenever he wanted something from his dad. "I'll just calculate my new calorie intake into my daily exercise routine and eat more salad than pasta for dinner."

"Uhm... right... But you don't get stuff on your clothes. I get stuff on my clothes, you don't", Finn persisted with a firm belief that whatever Kurt was saying right now, it was not the entire truth. He did not quite understand all of what that diet thing was about, but it was not the truth. Another crease had appeared upon Kurt's face, now in between his eyebrows. If Finn had known the word, he would have said that he looked exasperated.

"Finn, _please. _Just drop it."

"No, I... Did Puck do this to you? Did he throw you in the dumpster?"

* * *

Kurt had to grip the hems of his shirt tightly, keep his hands occupied, so he would not strangle him. True, during an embarrassing long time span of his life, he had found Finn's slow and persistent mind absolutely adorable, but things had changed drastically. Now he only wanted him to stay out of his business before someone got seriously hurt.

"Of course he didn't!" he snapped quickly and did not pause to think about the fact that a week earlier, Puck had in fact tossed his body effortlessly into a container filled with garbage. But that had been _Puck. _Not Noah. "For your information, he was a perfect gentleman." Minus the ice-cream facial he had gotten. Finn looked perplexed.

"Dude... are you sure you're talking about Puck?"

Kurt threw his hands up in the air in an exasperated gesture before angrily retreating down to his basement, ignoring his so called "big brother" and his silly questions.

_Noah's soon to be dead truck came to an abrupt halt outside the Hummel-Hudson residence and Kurt seriously questioned if that had been Noah's intention, or if it had just died on him conveniently outside the right house. Kurt slumped down in his seat, unwilling to part from him just yet. It had been a comfortable silence within the car since the jock confessed that he knew when his birthday was. Kurt had severe problems with not smiling. None of the questions he had promised himself to ask, the most important one being "what are we doing?", had been asked, but he was still satisfied._

_"You ruined my clothes", he said, with no annoyance or anger in his voice._

_"You had it coming, princess", Noah retorted. _

_He had regained some of his otherwise radiating confidence and smiled cheekily towards him with a mischievous glimmer in his warm eyes. How could Kurt have managed to miss how beautiful this boy was? He must have been blind. _

_"If you insist on calling me for some kind of female royalty, I prefer queen", Kurt fired back and moved his hand to adjust his bangs. He was interrupted mid motion by a larger hand enveloping his own. His blueish green eyes turned to Noah in surprise and with an unspoken "what?". _

_"Your hair is fine... Queen Kurt." _

Kurt eyed himself up in his bathroom mirror, like he had done a few days ago, to really memorize the difference he felt within. He had thought that it would have been more visible in his outer contours, his soft lines. He saw nothing. Nothing, except the chocolate stains across his clothing and his disorderly hair. Even the bruises were almost gone, he realized when he slowly pulled one garment after the other off his body. His eyes missed them, his mind missed the memory they had brought with them. Light fingertips traced the almost completely faded remnants across his hips. He dearly hoped Noah would replace them.

_"You should go. Finn is staring at us."_

_Kurt looked up swiftly, instantly meeting Finn's suspicious eyes through the kitchen window. Realizing that he had been noticed, he tried to crouch down beneath the window, but he was so tall that Kurt still could see the top of his head. _

_"Let him stare", Kurt said defiantly, turning his head back towards Noah. _

_An amused chuckle left his company._

_"You know, Hummel... You're really kind of badass." _

_"Oh please, did you realize that just now?"_

_Another warm chuckle, which made Kurt's heart flutter happily. _

_"I kind of did", Noah murmured when he leaned towards him, one hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Kurt could not avert his eyes from his lips, dazed by the gentleness of his hand and the contrast it had to his dark tone. "And it kind of turns me on."_

_His breath hitched in his throat and for a moment or two, he struggled to figure out how exactly he was supposed to breathe. His reply came a few seconds later than a normal reply._

_"I'm bad to the bone, baby."_

_The last thing he saw before their lips crashed was Noah's broad smile._

* * *

Kurt had gotten out of the car after stealing one last kiss and hurried across his front yard with a fruity wave in Noah's way, his satchel flinging back and forwards along his side. Noah knew that he had said it before, but _man, _look at that ass. How come that he never had seen that before? The Lord knows Kurt had done enough ass shaking in front of him, with all of those dance routines they did in Glee. He really should pay more attention during those. He threw one last glance at Kurt's retreating back. He was practically skipping. Smiling to himself, he forced the truck into motion.

* * *

**Author's note: I'm feeling a bit restless. Do you have any prompts or ideas for a new Purt or Kinn story? Would you like to give it to me? Pretty please? I'll give you a hug!**

**I'm writing a pretty angsty hurt/comfort/romance story, starring Noah Puckerman and Kurt Hummel and I'm looking for some help. Would you like to help me? Send me a message!**

**Don't forget to review, my darlings!**


	12. Showers

**Author's note: Sorry for the wait. I just noticed that 188 people have alerted this story. That must mean that I'll get 188 reviews on this chapter! Hooray! (take a hint, will ya?) **

**I'd like to thank AnonymousFan, Moosxaxlot, Utena-Puchiko-nyu, Xanjen, KeightK8 and Breathe In Butterfly for being such darlings and taking some of their precious time to review the last chapter. I love you.**

**BTW, has anyone seen Chris Colfer's photoshoot for Rolling Stones? He is **_**hot as hell!**_

**Anyway, here's chapter 12! And yeah, it's porn in it because I know you like it.**

* * *

William Schuester had always considered himself a somewhat insightful being who often noticed if anyone of his students were in some sort of distress. In all modesty, he could admit that he was one of the more caring teachers of McKinley High. Though, there was a fine line between what he should know and what he did not want to know, what he could help and what he just did not want to get involved with. Insecurities, lack of confidence, family issues, rivalry and even those small innocent crushes, yes, bring them on and Will would go out of his way to lend a helping hand or a comforting word. But then there was the other stuff. Stuff like _sex. _He was not sure of why it made him so uncomfortable. It might have something to do with that he had not gotten some himself in quite sometime, or that he frankly found it inappropriate in a healthy student/teacher relationship. But yet again, he cared for his students and especially his Glee kids. Therefore, when Finn trudged into his office one day, looking solemn and slumped down in the chair in front of his desk, Will did not hesitate before asking him:

"Is there something wrong, Finn?"

The abnormally tall teen, who's legs barely fit beneath the desk, clenched his jaw and nodded. Will's eyebrows creased in obvious concern. He had not seen Finn this down for a while – he had seemed happier now when he and Rachel officially were a couple.

"Would you like to talk about it? Maybe I can help", Will offered softly as he put away his pen and the papers he had been grading in between classes. He was not prepared for what came out of Finn's mouth two seconds later.

"I think Puck is doing Kurt."

Sex. Why? Why did it have to be _sex?_

* * *

Mr Schue was really cool. He had helped him through all the baby drama and shit with Quinn. He was almost like a father, although, a really crappy father who gave you homework. But their talks were nice. Finn knew that if something bothered him, he could always go to Schue and then everything would feel a bit better, a bit _clearer. _Something was bothering him now. Puck going gay for Kurt was bothering him. He had not seen any actual proof of it and never wished for seeing it either, but he was 110 percent sure that it was a fact that Puck was fucking Kurt. Finn's baby brother. So not okay.

"I think Puck is doing Kurt."

Mr Schue choked on his own saliva or something. It was not pretty. It must have taken a minute before he regained control over his wild coughing and a few awkward pats on his back from Finn.

"You okay, Mr Schue?"

"Yeah, uhm, of course, Finn... just got something, hrm, in my throat", he hurriedly tried to explain.

"Can I get you some water or something?" Finn offered helpfully, because Mr Schue really was his favorite teacher and it would kind of suck if he decided to choke on something and die. Mr Schue only shook his head, gesturing for him to once again sit down. Finn obeyed immediately and tucked his legs in under the desk. It was an awfully awkward business. This table was definitely not made for tall people. Though, he was soon sitting rather comfortably and waited patiently for Mr Schue to solve his problem. Schue seemed to get this, after a minute of silence.

"Finn, I really don't think that... that it's any of my business what Puck and Kurt decide to... uhm, do on their spare time."

Finn's heart sank. That was not the inspiring pep talk he had imagined. He parted his lips to push it a bit further, see if something helpful could slip from him, but he was interrupted even before he could say anything else.

"But... are you sure? I mean... it's _Puck."_

_"_That's what I said!" Finn exclaimed, eyes wide when he shot up straighter in his seat and exchanged knowing looks with his teacher. "But Kurt seems really into him and Puck is hanging out with him all the time and... _something's not right."_

* * *

It took a decent amount of time for Will to actually grasp what came out of his student's mouth. He would not say that he was in on the children's gossip, but a few things had he managed to snap up. One of those things included the fact that Puck was the self-proclaimed, so called "stud" of McKinley High and had slept with at least half of the female student body. Somehow, it seemed quite unlikely that a... sexual relationship between the boy who called himself Puckzilla and the effeminate Kurt Hummel was even possible. Maybe Finn was hallucinating, or misinterpreting the situation?

"... and I don't want Kurt to get hurt."

He had let Finn vent all of his frustrations about his recent discovery and it had been going on for a good fifteen minutes, before the rush of words finally came to a much needed halt. Finn was out of breath, his chest heaving heavily. It was Schue's cue.

"I know how you feel", he began softly. "Kurt is a new addition to your family and you feel like you need to protect him. That's only natural, _but... _Kurt is his own person. If he wants to have some sort of relationship with Puck, you can't stop him. It's his choice."

Finn looked considerably disappointed with his reply and Will felt a sting of compassion for him when he slumped down further in his chair. He was silent for a while once again, entangling and disentangling his fingers. Then, a light went on in his eyes. The revelation Finn had was so hysterically obvious that Will almost did not manage to stifle his laugh. He hid it in a cough.

"What if Puck _does _hurt Kurt? What if one of them _quits? _Then we won't have enough people for Nationals."

Oh... Will hated to admit it, but Finn did have a point.

* * *

Whenever things had been too hard, too difficult to handle, Kurt had at some points dreamed about being whisked away by a knight in shining armor. It was something which belonged to his childhood – the dreaming. He had realized that growing up meant growing stronger, especially when the strength of his own father wavered and faltered. Dreams and fantasies had to step aside for more important things, waiting for better times. Not until then would they resurface.

He was always the last one in the boys' locker room after Cheerio practice. He had made it a habit to linger, wait until the last one of the few boys had walked out the door before he started undressing. At times, when they gave him weird looks, he hid out in the bathroom until he heard the door close behind them. He did not want to make them uncomfortable, like the football team had been with him around. Tightly enveloped in his soft bathrobe, he brought his towel and products into the foul excuses for showers. Seriously, he would not be surprised if fungus blossomed in between those tiles. His favorite cubicle was more secluded than the others in the far corner and that was where he headed this day too. He gently placed the towel over the wall which parted his cubicle from the other before he slid out of his robe and put it next to it. It took a while before his sensitive skin got used to the hard, far too hot sprays of water. Muttering to himself about what this would do to his complexion, he did not notice that someone slipped through the door on light feet. Reaching out for his mango and papaya soap, he was caught completely off guard by a low, sultry voice.

"Jeez, Hummel, that ass is _fine."_

Kurt jumped visibly, his heart made a triple skip and ended its performance with an impressive somersault. For a second or two, he felt like dying. Then, his brain started to work again and he realized that he stood completely _naked _in front of Noah Puckerman. Oh Holy Gaga. Trembling fingers shot out after his towel which he hurriedly wrapped around himself while twisting around to face him.

"Noah! Are you trying to give me an heart attack?"

His voice was even more shrill than usual and the obvious smirk upon Noah's lips did not help him to regain regular heartbeats. The warm chuckle sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

"Did I scare you?" he said, hands shoved down the pockets of his jeans as he approached him.

Kurt tried not to think about how easily he could drop the towel... or how Noah with no greater effort at all, could rip it from his hands and ferociously devour his body. He instantly felt his knees weaken at mere thought of it.

"Yes", he whispered, nodding as his eyes raked over Noah's body.

The taller of the two stepped closer and closer, backing him up under the spray of hot water. He did not even find the words to complain about his towel, now damp in his hands.

"Sorry. Let me make it up to you..."

Kurt could feel his cheeks heat up, as well as the tips of his ears when Noah flashed his trademark grin.

"Your clothes... they'll get wet..." he mumbled feverishly, but all objecting words flew right out the window when the other boy leaned in and brushed their lips together. Kurt's eyelids fluttered close, his breath caught in his throat.

"You better get them off me then" was the simply reply he received from him.

A large pair of hands pulled him closer by the hips and Kurt could only barely contain a weak moan when their groins met. His hands, which only seconds ago had held onto the fabric of his towel for dear life, forgot everything about keeping him unexposed when they wrapped themselves around Noah's neck. The towel were, for now, trapped in between their bodies which in turn were practically glued to each other. Noah moved in again, his lips wavering almost close enough to touch.

"Wait... what if we get caught?"

Noah seemed to hesitate for a second, something uncertain flickered in his sultry eyes, but he spoke with certainty.

"Then I hope they enjoy the show."

* * *

Noah tried not to freak out too much when Kurt asked that question. Yeah, well, if someone walked in he would not know what to do. He knew what the right thing was and what the option with most probability was, but he did not know what exactly he would do. He did not want to think about it and he did not want to disappoint the lithe boy in his arms, who's erection grounded into his.

"Then I hope they enjoy the show", he murmured huskily in reply and hoped that his usual confidence seemed believable.

Kurt bought it, humming in pleasure when Noah rolled his hips against his. His cheeks wore a beautiful crimson red; shame and lust in an expression of embarrassment. He was so hot. All worries washed off him when he kissed him, went down the drain along with the water. It started off innocently enough; slow movements, a little touch of his tongue and then Kurt opened up, his fingers digging into Noah's scalp. It did not hurt, but was enough to put a sharper edge to their kisses which now deepened. A growl slipped from his lips, welcomed by a groan from Kurt when their tongues wrestled for victory. Wanting, _needing, _to get closer, he flipped them around and pushed him against the white tiles of the wall. He had a firm grip around his waist and for a second, his feet left the ground. The new support behind him, seemed to reinforce Kurt's confidence and bravery because next thing he knew, their kiss was like the definition of fire and just _fuck. _His fingers itched to rip the covering towel away, but he was far too busy with roaming his hands all over his naked behind. It was the first time he really could feel his bare skin and Noah was now happily able to inform Brittany that Kurt's hands were not the only baby smooth part on his body. In fact, _everything _was baby smooth,if you catch my drift. It was kind of weird to hold another dude's dick in your hand, but the sweet mewling noises leaving Kurt's lips made it all worth it... and well, Kurt was _big. _Noah was not kidding. It was rather impressive and totally unexpected, but he was not complaining. The towel laid forgotten next to their feet, soaking wet like their bodies. Eagerly and without patience, his free hand went to unbuckle his jeans. Kurt beat him to it, trembling and fumbling, unfocused because of how Noah let his hand run up and down his hardened shaft. It was not particularly difficult – he had had plenty of practice on himself. He let his thumb circle the head with precision and Kurt threw his head back as a surprisingly masculine, raw moan escaped his full lips. It went straight to Noah's groin and he could suddenly not get out of his jeans fast enough. Of course, they were stuck to his thighs like fucking glue because of the water. Did not matter, as long as he got his throbbing cock out of its fabric prison before he dispersed with helpless want. Kurt's pale hands soon did the trick and Noah took great pleasure in watching how his eyes widened at the sight of him, darkening with visible lust.

"You want to touch it, don't you?" he whispered into his ear and only a whimper reached him in reply. "Touch it."

His not entirely blue eyes was wide with awe and poorly hidden passion when he tentatively touched him with his fingertips. Kurt immediately retracted, as if burned when the reaction caused was the desperate bucking off Noah's hips. Though, like a kid to the candy store, he returned shortly. Long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around him.

"Fuck, Kurt..."

Noah could not stop his forehead from bumping down upon Kurt's exposed shoulder when hesitating movements turned to a regular, firm pace. He barely managed to return the favor as fine tremors of pleasure ran up and down through his body... all originating from his abdomen. Kurt's panting breath hit his ear and scalp.

"Noah... oh..."

They only lasted a few minutes each. Kurt went rigid, whimpering, when he spilled over the edge and all over Noah's hand. The orgasm hit him harder than the one that night in the Hummel residence. He would have lost his footing if not for the arms which wrapped themselves around him when he cried out and sagged against him. Shit.

* * *

Then there was the silence again, when they both tried to calm their wild heartbeats. Kurt felt dizzy, but did not allow himself to give in to it. If he did, they would both end up on the floor, since Noah was draped over him. A sense of accomplishment settled in his abdomen. _He _had done that to him. The fire slowly burned out, the tingling sensations died away as the remnants of what they had done was washed away by the still running shower. The water was colder now, he had not noticed while entangled with Noah. Hours could have passed before any of them made a move. Noah shuffled slightly, still breathing harshly into the crook of his neck. It felt so good.

"That was... Oh, God..."

"Please... Call me Kurt."

Noah's shoulder shook with the exhausted chuckle and Kurt smiled satedly. He did not need to dream about his knight in shiny armour any longer. He was real.

* * *

**Author's note: I was really disappointed with the poor reception of the last chapter. I guess that I have been spoiled with reviews earlier, but was chapter 11 really that bad? Anyway, it kind of killed my enthusiasm and it took me a while to wrap this together. I hope it ain't shit.**

**I've recently posted a new Puckurt-story. Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Romance named **_**Letterman jacket. **_**Here's a teaser from chapter 1:**

_"Noah..."  
Two great pools of vacant blue and green suddenly bore into his eyes. Hummel's fingertips trembled when they connected with Puck's cheek. They were so cold. It was meant as some kind of reassurance, a calming gesture, but hell to calm and collected when Hummel could not even steady his hand enough to cup someone's cheek!  
"... I'm cold..."_

**Check it out!**

**/Becka**


	13. IMPORTANT MESSAGE to my readers

**Dear readers,**

**I am sorry, but I feel that I am unable to continue with this story. It was never supposed to be more than a oneshot, but I was persuaded to continue without an actual plan for its development. Therefore, I am temporarily shutting this down. I do not want to get your hopes up - it is more likely that I will never continue with this than that I will, but since it is not finished, I would like to think that I at some point will be able to do something with it.**

**I would like to thank you for your support. It was the only thing that made me able to write 12 chapters.**

**If you do like my style of writing, feel free to check out _Letterman jacket. _It is a more thought through story and it will definitely be finished.**

**Hugs and kisses,  
Becka**


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